John Charlock had found out that all he had longed and hoped for since the early days was nothing more than vexation of spirit. Charlock made his way upwards. He had known what it was to starve. He often slept in parks. And now everything has changed, and he has become almost unsurpassed as a portrait painter. Glory and happiness came to him thanks to his brush and pencil. And at the same time, he seems to have found the only woman who could make him happy.