Everything began when the journalist wrore an article about Charles Strickland, whom everybody thought an unsuccessful artist. However, four years later after his death, writers and painters noticed him as an authentic genius, and his pictures were sold out at a high price.
So the writer, being acquainted with the painter, wrote the book about him. His travelling began in London where the man visited the houses of the literary and where almost nobody noticed him, except Rose Waterford. She brought him and Mrs. Strickland together, who later invited the man for the breakfast, she had a great passion for reading and organized breakfasts for writers. However, her husband Mr. Strickland was a very quiet man and was not interested in literature ar art; he was on the Stock Exchange and was a typical brocker, but a good dull, honest, ordinary man. He was fourty, not good-looking but not ugly, heavy, with large
hands and feet; his hair was reddish, cut very short and his eyes were small, blue and grey.
Once the writer was invited for the dinner, where he met Charles Strickland for the first time; that day they said nothing to each other. The next day the Stricklands went to Norfolk and spent there the whole August. Charles came back to the city in September as he had to give away his partner, and Mrs. Strickland stood in the country. But a month later, when she had to come back, her husband wrote her from Paris that did not want to live with her any more and would not return; he left her, giving no explanations. It was clear that after seventeen years of living together Charles couldn't leave her without any reason, as all her relatives and friends thought him to fell in love with another woman. To make everything clear and try to return her husband, Mrs. Strickland asked the writer to go to Paris on her behalf and describe her situation. And as Charles' temporary residence was known, the man went to France.
Well done!
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