"So that you may possess the world. You didn't expect to stay here forever, did you?"
Eleanor made no answer. There were certain conditions under which she would have been willing to stay here forever.
Dr. Green looked at her impatiently.
"You had plans for your future. Where is the young woman who was going to be George Eliot and Jane Austen in one, pray? You haven't forgotten her?"
"She has ceased to exist. I'm not interested in writing."
"Not interested in writing! Nonsense!" He began to argue for learning, for travel, for education. He reminded Eleanor of her achievements, of her fine mind; he told her that it was sinful to think of anything but her own mental progress in these formative years. She had no responsibilities, no cares, nothing to look after but herself. She should go to school, continuing her work at a university.
"But I am not interested in writing," repeated Eleanor.
"What are you interested in, then?" Dr. Green looked angrily at the pretty creature who listened unmoved to his harangue. "I spoke to you, Eleanor. I asked you what you are interested in?"
Eleanor rose, tall and slim, and looked at him across the untidy office. It seemed to her that he knew about Richard and that he was mocking her.
"That is my own affair."