My young lady continued to look at me in confusion and mistrust, and the result of her reflexion on what I had just said was to make her suddenly break out: "Look here, sir - what's the matter with him?"
"The matter with him is that if he doesn't look out people will eat a great hole in his life."
She turned it over. "He hasn't any disfigurement?"
"Do you mean that social engagements interfere with his occupations?"
"That but feebly expresses it."
"So that he can't give himself up to his beautiful imagination?"
"He's beset, badgered, bothered - he's pulled to pieces on the pretext of being applauded. People expect him to give them his time, his golden time, who wouldn't themselves give five shillings for one of his books."
"Five? I'd give five thousand!"
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