'It isn't a fib.'
'It's worse; it's a half-truth. Kami says, when he puts his head on one side,—so,—"Il y a du sentiment, mais il n'y a pas de parti pris."' He rolled the r threateningly, as Kami used to do.
'Yes, that is what he says; and I'm beginning to think that he is right.'
'Certainly he is.' Dick admitted that two people in the world could do and say no wrong. Kami was the man.
'And now you say the same thing. It's so disheartening.'
'I'm sorry, but you asked me to speak the truth. Besides, I love you too much to pretend about your work. It's strong, it's patient sometimes,—not always,—and sometimes there's power in it, but there's no special reason why it should be done at all. At least, that's how it strikes me.'
'There's no special reason why anything in the world should ever be done. You know that as well as I do. I only want success.'
'You're going the wrong way to get it, then. Hasn't Kami ever told you so?'
'Don't quote Kami to me. I want to know what you think. My work's bad, to begin with.'
'I didn't say that, and I don't think it.'
'It's amateurish, then.'
