'Will you be happy again if I promise to look after Charles?'
'He ought not to expect to be looked after. He is very famous now, and should be able to make money.'
'Surely, like everything else, it is a matter of practice. You don't expect him to beat Sir Henry at his own game.'
'No-o,' she said. 'But I think I did expect Charles's game to beat Sir Henry's.'
'Surely it has done so.'
'No.'
They were in her rooms, which were now most charmingly furnished; bright, gay, and delicate in colouring, tranquil and cosy with books.
'Has anything happened?'
She told him.
'I thought it was going to be so simple. I felt that Charles and I were irresistible, and that we should conquer the theatre and make people admit that he is—what he is. Nothing can alter that. But it isn't simple at all. Other people want other things. They go on wanting the horrible things they have always wanted, and they expect us to help them to procure them. They don't understand. They think we want the same things.... I never thought I should be so unhappy. When it comes to the point they won't let the real things in people be put before the public.'