'I quite agree with you. There's no sex in art, and a woman would be very foolish to let anything stand between her and her art.'
'I'm glad you think that. I've made great sacrifices for painting.'
'What sacrifices?'
'I'll tell you one of these days when I know you better.'
'Will you?'
The conversation paused a moment, and Mildred said:
'How wonderful it is here. Those pines, that sky, one hears the silence; it enters into one's very bones. It is a pity one cannot paint silence.'
'Millet painted silence. "The Angelus" is full of silence, the air trembles with silence and sunset.'
'But the silence of the moonlight is more awful, it really is very awful, I'm afraid.'
'Afraid of what? there's nothing to be afraid of. You asked me just now if I believed in Daveau's, I didn't like to say; I had only just been introduced to you; but it seems to me that I know you better now… Daveau's is a curse. It is the sterilisation of art. You must give up Daveau's, and come and work here.'