When Westminster School closed for the long summer vacation I, with other students, joined a sketching class at Boxford down in Berkshire. The quaintness of thatched cottages in the village delighted me. The sketching master was a better teacher than painter, I learned a lot from him. It was the first time I had sketched outdoors in England. Even across one field there was soft hazy distance, distance gradations were easier here to get…
Now that my sister’s visit was over, now that Martyn had come and gone, foot troubles were straightened out, London explored, and now that I was comfortably settled in Mrs. Dodds’ boarding house for students in Bulstrode Street, it seemed that things were shaped for steady, hard work. Besides all-day Life Class at the Westminster School of Art, I joined night classes—design, anatomy, clay modeling. Against London I was not quite so rebellious, though…
Martyn came all the way from Canada to London just to see me and with him he lugged that great love he had offered to me out in Canada and which I could not return. He warned of his coming in a letter, carefully timed to be just too late for me to stop him even by wire. For I would have pleaded, “Dear Martyn, please don’t come.” I had been spending the long…