"Yes, why not say it? I'm glad you recognise the beauty of truth spoken in defiance of conventional modesty."
"Oh, yes, I do think if one is talented, it is silly to deny it."
"It is. That is why our people are so frankly sane and honest about their own achievements——"
"And yet, you're so modest,—I mayn't show your verses!"
"That's a different matter. You know those were for your eyes alone."
"I know. I will keep them for myself."
The Studio of the Blaneys in the city was much like the one Patty had seen at Lakewood, only a little more elaborately bizarre. The Moorish lamps were bigger and dustier: the thick brocade draperies a little more faded and tattered; the furniture a little more gilded and wobbly.
Alla came gliding to greet Patty, and gave her an enthusiastic welcome.
"You darling!" she cried, "you very darling! Look at her, everybody! Look! Gloat over this bit of perfect perfection! Did you ever see anything so wonderful?"
Alla had led Patty to the middle of the room, and she now turned her round and round, like a dressmaker exhibiting a model.