wood from the rest of the room.
The caretaker, who had the key and showed them round, explained that
this had been planned and put up by an Austrian painter, who used the
chamber formed by the platform and the upper part of the screen as a
bedroom, and the space below, roofed by the platform as a kitchen.

The rent was one hundred pounds a year.

This seemed too much to Claude. He felt ashamed to spend such a large
sum on what must seem an unnecessary caprice to the average person, even
probably to people who were above the average. If he were known as a
composer, if he were popular or famous, the matter, he felt, would be
quite different. Everyone understands the artistic needs of the famous
man, or pretends to understand them. But Claude and his work were
entirely unknown to fame. And now, as he hesitated about the payment of
this hundred pounds, he regretted this, as he had never before regretted
it.

But Charmian was strong in her insistence upon his having this
particular studio. She saw he had taken a fancy to it.

"I know you feel there's the right atmosphere here," she said. "I can
see you do. It would be fatal not to take this studio if you have that
feeling. Never mind the expense. We shall get it all back in the
future."

"Back in the future!" he said, as if startled. "How?"

She saw she had been imprudent, had made a sort of slip.

"Oh, I don't know. Some day when your father--But don't let's talk of
that. A hundred a year is not very much. It will only mean not quite so
many new hats and dresses for me."

Claude flushed, suddenly and violently.

"Charmian! You can't suppose--"

"Surely a wife has the right to do something to help her husband?"

"But I don't need--I mean, I could never consent--"

She made a face at him, drawing down her brows, and turning her eyes to
the left where the caretaker stood, with a bunch of keys in his large,
gouty, red hands. Claude said no more. As they went out Charmian smiled
at the caretaker.

"We are going to take it. My husband likes it."

"Yes, ma'am. It's a mighty fine studio. The Baron was sorry to leave it,
but he had to go back to Vi-henner."

"I see."

"Now the next thing is to furnish it," said Charmian, as they walked
away.

"I shall only want my piano, a chair, and a table," said Claude.

It was only by making a very great effort that he was able to speak
naturally, with any simplicity.

"Besides," he added quickly, "it's really too expen