castle: all these elegant Persian rugs, and those four "old masters,"
and the bronzes and the teakwood carvings--you can see for yourself.
Lucy wasn't quite satisfied with the room at first. She missed the
fish-net draperies and cozy corners and the usual clap-trap of amateur
studios. But she's educated up to it now, and it's a daily joy to me. On
the other hand my broiled steaks and feather-weight waffles and
first-class coffee are a joy to poor Henry, who can't even boil an egg
properly, and who hasn't the first instinct of home-making."

"You don't mean to say that you do the cooking for this happy family!"

Joyce laughed at his surprised tone. "That's what makes it a happy
family. No domestic service problems. With a gas range, a fireless
cooker and all the conveniences of our little kitchenette, it's mere
play after my Wigwam experiences. We have a woman come several times a
week to clean and do extras, so I don't get more exercise than I need to
keep me in good condition."

"But doesn't all this devotion to the useful interfere with your pursuit
of the beautiful? Where do you find time for your art?"

"Oh, my art is all useful," sighed Joyce. "I used to dream of great
things to come, but I've come down to earth now--practical designing.
Magazine covers and book plates and illustrating. I can do things like
that and it is work I love, and work that pays. Of course I'd _rather_
do Madonnas than posters, but since the pot must boil I am glad there
are book-covers to be done. And _some_ day--well, I may not always have
to stay tied to the earth. My wings are growing, in the shape of a
callow bank account. When it is full-fledged, then I shall take to my
dreams again. Already Henry and I are talking of a flight abroad