to Lunnon?"

"They sent them back again. I told you 't was wasting three stamps. It
's not for me, I know it. The world is full of dumb singers. Maybe I
haven't got even a pinch of the fire that _must_ break through and show
its flame, no matter what mountains the earth tumbles on it. God knows I
burn hot enough sometimes with great thoughts and wild longings for love
and for sweeter life and for you; but my fires--whether they are
soul-fires or body-fires--only burn my heart out."

She sighed and squeezed his hand, understanding little enough of what he
said.

"We must be patient. 'T is a solid thing, patience. I'm puttin' by
pence; but it 's so plaguy little a gal can earn, best o' times and with
the best will."

"If I could only write the things I think! But they vanish before pen
and paper and the need of words, as the mists of the night vanish before
the hard, searching sun. I am ignorant of how to use words; and those in
the world who might help me will never know of me. As for those around
about, they reckon me three parts fool, with just a little gift of
re-writing names over their dirty shop-fronts."

"Yet it 's money. What did 'e get for that butivul fox wi' the goose in
his mouth you painted 'pon Mr. Lamacraft's sign to Sticklepath?"

"Ten shillings."

"That's solid money."