Joe came to New York to study painting. There he met Dilia, a girl who came to complete her musical education. Young people fell in love and got married. They rented a small apartment where they were happy. Joe studied painting, Dilia took music lessons. Until they ran out of money.

Dilia decided to become a teacher. Every day she left home in search of students until finally she was out of luck. Dilia offered to educate the daughter of General Pinckney Clementine, a sweet girl, dressed from head to toe in white. Joe was ready to sell newspapers, pave the streets to bring home money, too, but Dilia strongly objected: you should not give up art, Joe should continue to take lessons.

Dilia went to work all week, and Joe made sketches in the park. By the end of the week, Dilia brought money for the lessons, and Joe sold one of his paintings to a certain subject from Peoria.

A week later, Joe brought home again the money for the painting sold and hastily washed off something black that looked like oil paint. Dilia came home with a bandaged hand. Clementine decided to treat her with croutons and inadvertently splashed melted cheese on her hand. It was so painful that the general sent the stoker to the pharmacy for ointment and bandages. To her husband’s question, when did this happen, Dilia replied that at about five o’clock the iron, that is, she wanted to say cheese, was removed from the stove. Then Joe, hugging his wife, asked what she had been doing for the past two weeks. Sobbing, Dilia admitted that she could not find a job, and she could not allow Joe to give up painting lessons. She entered the laundry as an ironer and came up with a story about General Pinckney and his daughter. But today, one of the girls burned her hand with an iron. She had no choice, because otherwise Joe could not continue his studies and sell paintings to a subject from Peoria. But how did he guess? To which Joe replied that he had no idea until the last minute, and the subject was not from Peoria. Just today, from the boiler room of the laundry room, where he has been working as a stoker for two weeks, he was sent to a pharmacy to buy bandages and ointment for the ironer, who burned her hand.

After all, when you love art, no sacrifices are terrible. No, when you just love ...