Clayton was related widely to interesting and even influential people. One
woman, a distant cousin, had taken upon herself his affairs.

"I will give you another chance," she said, in a business-like tone, after
he had been languidly detailing his condition to her and indicating
politely that he was coming to extremities. "Visit me this summer at Bar
Harbor. You shall have the little lodge at the Point for a studio, and you
can take your meals at the hotel near by. In that way you will be
independent. Now, there are three ways, any one of which will lead you out
of your difficulties, and if you don't find one that suits you before
October, I shall leave you to your fate."

The young man appeared interested.

"You can model something--that's your line, isn't it?"

Clayton nodded meekly. He had resolved to become a sculptor during his
last six months in Italy.

"And so put you on your feet, professionally." Clayton sighed. "Or you can
find some rich patron or patroness who will send you over for a couple of
years more until your _chef d' oeuvre_ makes its appearance." Her pupil
turned red, and began to murmur, but she kept on unperturbed. "Or, best of
all, you can marry a girl with some money and then do what you like." At
this Clayton rose abruptly.

"I haven't come to that," he growled.

"Don't be silly," she pursued. "You are really charming; good character;