Alexandra was reading Henriettas manuscript.

"This," she said, pointing with her finger, "is inane."

Henrietta got up and looked over Alexandras shoulder at the sentence.

"Yes," she said. "I prefer the inane, sometimes. The ane is often inutile to the artist."

There was a moment of contemplation.

"I have been offered a thousand florins for it," Henrietta said. "The Dutch rights."

"How much is that in our money?"

"Two hundred sixty-six dollars."

"Bless Babel," Alexandra said, and took her friend in her arms.

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