The portrait of Mr.Batterbury (much the more carefully-painted picture of the two) was summarily turned out.
The Portrait of a Nobleman was politely reserved to be hung up, if the Royal Academicians could possibly find room for it.

They could not.
So that picture also vanished back into the obscurity of the artist's easel.

Weak and well-meaning people would have desponded under these circumstances; but your genuine Rogue is a man of elastic temperament, not easily compressible under any pressure of disaster.

I sent the portrait of Mr.Batterbury to the house of that distinguished patron, and the Portrait of a Nobleman to the Pawnbroker's.

After this I had plenty of elbow-room in the studio, and could walk up and down briskly, smoking my pipe, and thinking about what I should do next.
I had observed that the generous friend and vagabond brother artist, whose lodger I now was, never seemed to be in absolute want of money; and yet the walls of his studio informed me that nobody bought his pictures.