"Literature!"
"I said literature. I was observing, when you interrupted, that it is my experience that in literature"--Miss Johnson paused, Miss Wallace was contemptuously silent--"men always get paid at least twice as much as the women. I don't know why; it seems to be one of the rules of the game. It therefore follows that if your Harry did as I do he would earn six, eight, ten pounds a week, which, with management, would keep two--not to speak of your drawings, which ought to bring in something. I believe the Family Flutterer pays as much as seven-and-six for a full page."
"My dear Dollie, you know as well as I do that we both of us would rather starve."
"Sweet Meg, I'm not saying you're right or wrong, only, if you have resolved to eschew the easily earned loaves and fishes, don't revile because, having set out on the track of the rarer creatures, you discover--what every one knows, and you know!--that they are difficult to find. My private opinion is that Harry will find them one day--if he keeps on long enough--though I don't know when."
"You're a comforting sort of person."
"I'm a practical sort of person, which is better. Cheer up, Meg! he'll get there--and perhaps you will too--though of course his stories are better than your drawings."
"I don't need you to tell me that."
Miss Johnson, descending from the table, put her arm round the girl who was seated on the other side.
"You poor darling! I'm a perfect pig! I say, Meg, are you hard up?"
"I always am."