’It is very kind of you, Neigh—­upon my word it is—­very kind; and of course I appreciate the delicacy which—­which—­’

‘What’s kind?’

’I mean your well-intentioned plan for making me believe that nothing is known of this.  But stories will of course get wind; and if our attachment has made more noise in the world than I intended it should, and causes any public interest, why—­ha-ha!—­it must.  There is some little romance in it perhaps, and people will talk of matters of that sort between individuals of any repute—­little as that is with one of the pair.’

’Of course they will—­of course.  You are a rising man, remember, whom some day the world will delight to honour.’

‘Thank you for that, Neigh.  Thank you sincerely.’

’Not at all.  It is merely justice to say it, and one must he generous to deserve thanks.’

’Ha-ha!—­that’s very nicely put, and undeserved I am sure.  And yet I need a word of that sort sometimes!’

‘Genius is proverbially modest.’

’Pray don’t, Neigh—­I don’t deserve it, indeed.  Of course it is well meant in you to recognize any slight powers, but I don’t deserve it.  Certainly, my self-assurance was never too great.  ’Tis the misfortune of all children of art that they should be so dependent upon any scraps of praise they can pick up to help them along.’

’And when that child gets so deep in love that you can only see the whites of his eyes—­’

‘Ah—­now, Neigh—­don’t, I say!’

‘But why did—­’

‘Why did I love her?’

‘Yes, why did you love her?’

’Ah, if I could only turn self-vivisector, and watch the operation of my heart, I should know!’

’My dear fellow, you must be very bad indeed to talk like that.  A poet himself couldn’t be cleaner gone.’

’Now, don’t chaff, Neigh; do anything, but don’t chaff.  You know that I am the easiest man in the world for taking it at most times.  But I can’t stand it now; I don’t feel up to it.  A glimpse of paradise, and then perdition.  What would you do, Neigh?’

‘She has refused you, then?’

’Well—­not positively refused me; but it is so near it that a dull man couldn’t tell the difference.  I hardly can myself.’

‘How do you really stand with her?’ said Neigh, with an anxiety ill-concealed.

’Off and on—­neither one thing nor the other.  I was determined to make an effort the last time she sat to me, and so I met her quite coolly, and spoke only of technicalities with a forced smile—­you know that way of mine for drawing people out, eh, Neigh?’

‘Quite, quite.’

’A forced smile, as much as to say, “I am obliged to entertain you, but as a mere model for art purposes.”  But the deuce a bit did she care.  And then I frequently looked to see what time it was, as the end of the sitting drew near—­rather a rude thing to do, as a rule.’