'Day,' said she.
He stamped his foot impatiently.
'What's in a name? Day, if you like. Artists can and must do as they please. This is our real life, here where we make beauty. The rest is for city clerks and stockbrokers who can't trust themselves to behave decently unless they have a perfect net of rules from which they cannot escape.'
'I don't want to talk about it. Go on with your work, Charles.'
'I've finished for to-day.... Will you let me take you out to dinner?'
'No. I've promised Verschoyle.'
'Damn! You oughtn't to be seen with him so much. People will say you have left me for his money.'
'I thought artists didn't care what people say.'
'They don't, Clara. They don't.'
'You must be sensible, Charles. You're not safe. You can't take risks until you are successful.'