Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of gin in his dimly lighted studio below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of themasterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when herslight hold upon the world grew weaker. Old Behrman, with his red eyesplainly streaming, shouted his contempt for such foolish imaginings.