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420 afford anything better. Teresa disagreed instantly. She had her plan. "We are going into town for three months," she announced firmly. "At least, as soon as your picture is finished. And we shall do that every year. Neither of us can live absolutely buried as we are here, all the year round. We're too young—or not young enough—for that! You need people and I need them."

"I don't need anything but work and peace," said Basil sombrely, "and we're in debt."

"No matter. You'll sell your picture, and I shall make something. And we'll make up next year. We shall take this house on a long lease, or buy it on the instalment plan. We shall live here nine months of the year. We can live quietly and cheaply, and you can work. This studio suits you, and I can make a charming garden. After what I've seen to-day, I'm sure we can't do much better. By degrees we'll make the house over to suit us. It will be comfortable, except in the dead of winter, and then we shall take a little apartment in New York. There, Basil, that's my idea—do you like it?"

"Well enough. But I don't believe we can make it go."

"I shall make it go," said Teresa. "To-morrow I shall look for a place in town—something over in the old Chelsea district—cheap and not too nasty. How did work go to-day?"