the usual rebuffs and disappointments, but, refusing to be
discouraged, he had kept on and soon the tide turned. His drawings
began to be accepted. They appeared first in one magazine, then in
another, until one day, to his great joy, he received an order
from an important firm of publishers for six washdrawings to be
used in illustrating a famous novel. This was the beginning of his
real success. His illustrations were talked about almost as much
as the book, and from that time on everything was easy. He was in
great demand by the publishers, and very soon the young artist,
who had begun his career of independence on nothing a year so to
speak, found himself in a handsomely appointed studio in Bryant
Park, with more orders coming in than he could possibly fill, and
enjoying an income of little less than $5,000 a year. The money
was all the sweeter to Jefferson in that he felt he had himself
earned every cent of it. This summer he was giving himself a well-
deserved vacation, and he had come to Europe partly to see Paris
and the other art centres about which his fellow students at the
Academy raved, but principally--although this he did not
acknowledge even to himself--to meet in Paris a young woman in
whom he was more than ordinarily interested--Shirley Rossmore,
daughter of Judge Rossmore, of the United States Supreme Court,
who had come abroad to recuperate after the labours on her new
novel, "The American Octopus," a book which was then the talk of
two hemispheres.

Jefferson had read half a dozen reviews of it in as many American
papers that afternoon at the New York Herald's reading room in the
Avenue de l'Opera, and he chuckled with glee as he thought how
accurately this young woman had described his father. The book had
been published under the pseudonym "Shirley Green," and he alone