Among the many things expected of a person who chose journalism as the career, the most important of them was to go out and fetch a story. For those who were not paid the highest and tended to get the lesser jobs, like Belinda, you weren't able to fetch any story but in fact be told where to go and what to write about. The adventure which Belinda Ann Bale, one of the lower paid employee's of The Day, had been selected to be a visit to the New London Gallery to write a brief article over the current exhibition on display: Renoir Landscapes.
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Belinda had dressed appropriately for the simple little ****tail party behind held to promote upscale purchasing of the paintings; a black little cotton number that went to her knees and gave a bit of flare, but held a plunging neckline so that the little freckles on the center of her chest was more easier seen. She even went to the effort of straightening out the heavy black curls so that they lay straight and flat against her exposed back and putting on the faintest touches of makeup so that some of the freckles on her face were washed away.
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Her entry into the building had been anything far from exquisite; mostly she slipped in unnoticed. Never sticking out too much within any crowd, in her personal opinion, she only drew attention to herself any time she stopped in front of a painting and proceeded to pull out the mini-recorder and make vocal notes on what her eyes were feasting upon. It was the quickest method which she could think of so that none would easily be able to identify her as a journalist ten steps away from giving a review for tomorrow's newspaper. . Renoir Paintings:
