d, he was touched keenly by the remembrance of Ruby. She
had been so sweet to him. His opening art experiences had in a way been
centred about her. But in spite of all, he did not want to go out and
see her. Or did he? He asked himself this question with a pang of
sorrow, for in a way he cared. He cared for her as one might care for a
girl in a play or book. She had the quality of a tragedy about her.
She--her life, her surroundings, her misfortune in loving him,
constituted an artistic composition. He thought he might be able to
write a poem about it some time. He was able to write rather charming
verse which he kept to himself. He had the knack of saying things in a
simple way and with feeling--making you see a picture. The trouble with
his verse was that it lacked as yet any real nobility of thought--was
not as final in understanding as it might have been.

He did not go to see Ruby. The reason he assigned to himself was that it
would not be nice. She might not want him to now. She might be trying to
forget. And he had Angela. It really wasn't fair to her. But he looked
over toward the region in which she lived, as he travelled out of the
city eastward and wished that some of those lovely moments he had spent
with her might be lived again.

Back in New York, life seemed to promise a repetition of the preceding
year, with some minor modifications. In the fall Eugene went to live
with McHugh and Smite, the studio they had consisting of one big working
room and three bed-rooms. They agreed that they could get along
together, and for a while it was good for them all. The criticism they
furnished each other was of real value. And they found it pleasant to
dine together, to walk, to see the exhibitions. They stimulated each
other with argument, each having a special point of view. It was much as
it had been with Howe and Mathews in Chicago.

During this winter Eugene made his first appearance in one of the
leading publications of the time--_Harper's Magazine_. He had gone to
the Art Director with some proofs of his previous work, and had been
told that it was admirable; if some suitable story turned up he would be
considered. Later a letter came asking him to call, and a commission
involving three pictures for $125 was given him. He worked them out
successfully with models and was complimented on the result. His
associates cheered him on also, for they really admired what he was
doing. He set out definitely to _make Scri