“But I must be walked with, not driven; bear that in mind, old boy.”
“I want to ask you, Robert, if you ever observed that the desire for distinction grows upon us like a disease?”
“I believe it does, since you speak of it.”
“You know it, for you have been gradually growing weaker in everything else, since your ambition has been set stark mad over that contest.”
“Why should not I let everything else go? Think of it; who ever paints the acceptable ‘Athlete’ is to be acknowledged famous, even more famous than he ever dreamed.”
“How do you know that?”
“How do I know it? By the fact that it gets the mention honorable in the palace of art, which is a great step—a veritable leap I would say—towards fame.”
“What good are words of applause echoing through the empty walls of a ruined home?”
“Ruined home,” Robert repeated, “preposterous! My wife has all the money she wants; dresses second to none in the set in which she moves. What more could a woman want?”
“A husband and his love,” said Marrion, emphatically. “Would you say you had a wife and that wife’s love, if half the time she was in no condition to care for your home?”