I have given up painting. Wood,—"he'll never mend. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. She came to adore them. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. "I'm never satisfied with a first attempt. ‘No sense in snooping about down here,’ Gerald whispered.
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