"Frankly, I doubt if you can ever write. I see no gleam of a gift in these things you have brought me. They are sentimental and silly. But if you should want to learn something about this great art——"
"Oh, I do," said Jane earnestly.
"Very well, I will give you a list of books to begin with. You must get a position so that you can support yourself, then study when you can. Write all the time; get facility with words, then tear it up. Don't try to sell things. Begin to watch people; get abreast of events. Read the papers and the magazines in the library. Read Shakespeare, Fielding, Dickens, Thackeray, Bunyan, Meredith, Barrie, and Galsworthy. You might even try Shaw."
"Oh, I will!" cried Jane.
He laughed.
"I don't often inflict an hour's lecture upon unprotected young women, Miss Judd."
"I can't tell you how grateful I am. This is just what I needed."
"You get to work. When you are absolutely confident that you have got something good, come and see me again."
"Thank you, I will."
She went out in a daze. This talk was to change the whole course of her life, and she knew it. It was characteristic of her that she began at once. She answered an advertisement in the paper, inserted by a man named Jerome Paxton, who wanted a reliable woman to mend his clothes and do light work about the studio. She applied and he engaged her.