“They draw the things in red and black ink on the pop-shop labels.”
“I dare say. I haven't risen to pop-shop labels yet. Those are done by the Academicians. I want to draw your head.”
“What for?”
“Because it's pretty. That is why you will come to the room across the landing three times a week at eleven in the morning, and I'll give you three quid a week just for sitting still and being drawn. And there's a quid on account.”
“For nothing? Oh, my!” The girl turned the sovereign in her hand, and with more foolish tears, “Ain't neither 'o you two gentlemen afraid of my bilking you?”
“No. Only ugly girls do that. Try and remember this place. And, by the way, what's your name?”
“I'm Bessie,—Bessie——It's no use giving the rest. Bessie Broke,—Stone-broke, if you like. What's your names? But there,—no one ever gives the real ones.”
Dick consulted Torpenhow with his eyes.
“My name's Heldar, and my friend's called Torpenhow; and you must be sure to come here. Where do you live?”
“South-the-water,—one room,—five and sixpence a week. Aren't you making fun of me about that three quid?”