"If she's an artist herself why doesn't she like people to go in for art, especially when Nick has given his time to painting her so beautifully? Why does she come there so often if she disapproves of what he has done?"
"Oh, Miriam's disapproval—it doesn't count; it's a manner of speaking."
"Of speaking untruths, do you mean"? Does she think just the reverse—is that the way she talks about everything?"
"We always admire most what we can do least," Peter replied; "and Miriam of course isn't political. She ranks painters more or less with her own profession, about which already, new as she is to it, she has no illusions. They're all artists; it's the same general sort of thing. She prefers men of the world—men of action."
"Is that the reason she likes you?" Biddy mocked.
"Ah, she doesn't like me—couldn't you see it?"
Biddy said nothing for a moment; then she asked: "Is that why she lets you call her 'Miriam'?"
"Oh, I don't, to her face."
"Ah, only to mine!" laughed Biddy.
"One says that as one says 'Rachel' of her great predecessor."
"Except that she isn't so great quite yet, is she?"
"Far from it; she's the freshest of novices—she has scarcely been four months on the stage. But no novice has ever been such an adept. She'll go very fast, and I dare say that before long she'll be magnificent."
"What a pity you'll not see that!" Biddy remarked, after a short interval.
