or fog or snow. The city appealed to him, wet or white,
particularly the public squares. He saw Fifth Avenue once in a driving
snowstorm and under sputtering arc lights, and he hurried to his easel
next morning to see if he could not put it down in black and white. It
was unsuccessful, or at least he felt so, for after an hour of trying he
threw it aside in disgust. But these spectacles were drawing him. He was
wanting to do them--wanting to see them shown somewhere in color.
Possible success was a solace at a time when all he could pay for a meal
was fifteen cents and he had no place to go and not a soul with whom to
talk.

It was an interesting phase of Eugene's character that he had a passion
for financial independence. He might have written home from Chicago at
times when he was hard pressed; he might have borrowed some money from
his father now, but preferred to earn it--to appear to be further along
than he was. If anyone had asked him he would have said he was doing
fine. Practically he so wrote to Angela, giving as an excuse for further
delay that he wanted to wait until he had ample means. He was trying all
this time to make his two hundred dollars go as far as possible and to
add to it by any little commissions he could get, however small. He
figured his expenses down to ten dollars a week and managed to stay
within that sum.

The particular building in which he had settled was really not a studio
building but an old, run-down boarding and apartment house turned
partially to uses of trade. The top floor contained three fair sized
rooms and two hall bedrooms, all occupied by lonely individuals plying
some craft or other. Eugene's next door neighbor chanced to be a hack
illustrator, who had had his training in Boston and had set up his easel
here in the hope of making a living. There were not many exchanges of
courtesies between them at first, although, the door being open the
second day he arrived, he saw that an artist worked there, for the easel
was visible.

No models applying at first he decided to appeal to the Art Students'
League. He called on the Secretary and was given the names of four, who
replied to postal cards from him. One he selected, a young Swedish
American girl who looked somewhat like the character in the story he had
in mind. She was neat and attractive, with dark hair, a straight nose
and pointed chin, and Eugene immediately conceived a liking for her. He
was ashamed of his surrounding