It Was A Beautiful Summer Morning, And Rodney Was Out Of His Bed
At Six O'clock. He Usually Went For A Walk Before Going To His
Studio, And This Morning His Walk Had Been A Very Pleasant One,
For Yesterday's Work Had Gone Well With Him. But As He Turned Into
The Mews In Which His Studio Was Situated He Saw The Woman Whom He
Employed To Light His Fire Standing In The Middle Of The Roadway.
He Had Never Seen Her Standing In The Middle Of The Roadway Before
And His Doors Wide Open, And He Instantly Divined A Misfortune,
And Thought Of The Virgin And Child He Had Just Finished. There
Was Nothing Else In His Studio That He, Cared Much About. A Few
Busts, Done Long Ago, And A Few Sketches; No Work Of Importance,
Nothing That He Cared About Or That Could Not Be Replaced If It
Were Broken.
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