ulty of a reduced income in a
manner satisfactory to herself and her father. The rent of the Gallery
off Cork Street which he had bought for her and her increased income tax
happening to balance, it had been quite simpl--she no longer paid him the
rent. The Gallery might be expected now at any time, after eighteen years
of barren usufruct, to pay its way, so that she was sure her father would
not feel it. Through this device she still had twelve hundred a year,
and by reducing what she ate, and, in place of two Belgians in a poor
way, employing one Austrian in a poorer, practically the same surplus for
the relief of genius. After three days at Robin Hill she carried her
father back with her to Town. In those three days she had stumbled on
the secret he had kept for two years, and had instantly decided to cure
him. She knew, in fact, the very man. He had done wonders with. Paul
Post--that painter a little in advance of Futurism; and she was impatient
with her father because his eyebrows would go up, and because he had
heard of neither. Of course, if he hadn't "faith" he would never get
well! It was absurd not to have faith in the man who had healed Paul
Post so that he had only just relapsed, from having overworked, or
overlived, himself again. The great thing about this healer was that he
relied on Nature. He had made a special study of the symptoms of
Nature--when his patient failed in any natural symptom he supplied the
poison which caused it--and there you were! She was extremely hopeful.
Her father had clearly not been living a natural life at Robin Hill, and
she intended to provide the symptoms. He was--she felt--out of touch
with the times, which was not natural; his heart wanted stimulating. In
the little Chiswick house she and the Austrian--a grateful soul, so
devoted to June for rescuing her that she was in danger of decease from
overwork--stimulated Jolyon in all sorts of ways, preparing him for his
cure. But they could not keep his eyebrows down; as, for example, when
the Austrian woke him at eight o'clock just as he was going to sleep, or
June took The Times away from him, because it was unnatural to read "that
stuff" when he ought to be taking an interest in "life." He never
failed, indeed, to be astonished at her resource, especially in the
evenings. For his benefit, as she declared, though he suspected that she
also got something out of it, she assembled the Age so far as it was
satellite to