Part 15 (1/2)

'No,' she said shortly, 'and I don't want to. If you think it's so lovely, why don't you go and see it yourself?'

She raised her face from the soft blackness of the marten skins about her throat, and her eyes shone like diamonds. The moonlight on the gray kangaroo fur turned it to frosted silver of the coldest.

'By Jove, Maisie, you look like a little heathen idol tucked up there.'

The eyes showed that they did not appreciate the compliment. 'I'm sorry,' he continued. 'The Southern Cross isn't worth looking at unless someone helps you to see. That steamer's out of hearing.'

'd.i.c.k,' she said quietly, 'suppose I were to come to you now,--be quiet a minute,--just as I am, and caring for you just as much as I do.'

'Not as a brother, though You said you didn't--in the Park.'

'I never had a brother. Suppose I said, ”Take me to those places, and in time, perhaps, I might really care for you,” what would you do?'

'Send you straight back to where you came from, in a cab. No, I wouldn't; I'd let you walk. But you couldn't do it, dear. And I wouldn't run the risk. You're worth waiting for till you can come without reservation.'

'Do you honestly believe that?'

'I have a hazy sort of idea that I do. Has it never struck you in that light?'

'Ye--es. I feel so wicked about it.'

'Wickeder than usual?'

'You don't know all I think. It's almost too awful to tell.'

'Never mind. You promised to tell me the truth--at least.'

'It's so ungrateful of me, but--but, though I know you care for me, and I like to have you with me, I'd--I'd even sacrifice you, if that would bring me what I want.'

'My poor little darling! I know that state of mind. It doesn't lead to good work.'

'You aren't angry? Remember, I do despise myself.'

'I'm not exactly flattered,--I had guessed as much before,--but I'm not angry. I'm sorry for you. Surely you ought to have left a littleness like that behind you, years ago.'

'You've no right to patronise me! I only want what I have worked for so long. It came to you without any trouble, and--and I don't think it's fair.'

'What can I do? I'd give ten years of my life to get you what you want.

But I can't help you; even I can't help.'

A murmur of dissent from Maisie. He went on--'And I know by what you have just said that you're on the wrong road to success. It isn't got at by sacrificing other people,--I've had that much knocked into me; you must sacrifice yourself, and live under orders, and never think for yourself, and never have real satisfaction in your work except just at the beginning, when you're reaching out after a notion.'

'How can you believe all that?'

'There's no question of belief or disbelief. That's the law, and you take it or refuse it as you please. I try to obey, but I can't, and then my work turns bad on my hands. Under any circ.u.mstances, remember, four-fifths of everybody's work must be bad. But the remnant is worth the trouble for its own sake.'

'Isn't it nice to get credit even for bad work?'

'It's much too nice. But---- May I tell you something? It isn't a pretty tale, but you're so like a man that I forget when I'm talking to you.'

'Tell me.'