Most of that day I spent in bed; I didn't feel myself, yet it was still a
great satisfaction to me that I had got the better of that brute. On Monday
at twelve I kept the appointment in Dean Street. Crowther hadn't come in,
and I sat for a few minutes quaking. When he turned up, he was quite
cheerful. "Look here!" he said, "will you sell me that picture for thirty
pounds?" "What then?" I asked. "Why, then you can pay me another thirty
pounds, and I'll give you twelve months to do it in. You shall have your
forty guineas at once." I tried to reflect, but I was too agitated.
However, I saw that to pay thirty pounds in a year meant that I must live
on about eight shillings a week. "I don't know how I'm to do it," I said.
He looked at me. "Well, I won't be hard on you. Look here, you shall pay me
six bob a week till the thirty quid's made up. Now, you can do _that_?" Yes
I could do that, and I agreed. In another ten minutes our business was
settled,--my signature was so shaky that I might safely have disowned it
afterwards. Then we had a drink at a neighbouring pub, and we walked
together towards Coventry Street. Crowther was to wait for me near the
picture-dealer's.

'I entered with a bold step, promising myself pleasure in a new triumph
over the brute. But he wasn't there. I saw only an under-strapper. I had no
time to lose, for I must be at business by two o'clock. I paid the
money--notes and gold--and took away the picture under my arm. Of course,
it had been removed from the frame in which I first saw it, and the
assistant wrapped it up for me in brown paper. At the street corner I
surrendered it to Crowther. "Come and see me after business to-morrow," he
said, "I should like to have a bit more talk with you."

'So I had come out of it gloriously. I cared nothing about losing the
picture, and I didn't grieve over the six shillings a week that I should
have to pay for the next two years. If I went into that gallery again, I