They don’t now. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. ” She smiled at him broadly and kissed his cheek. \" Lucy said. Beyond that everything was nebulous. May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. I was his wife. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe.
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