How can you say that!
IRENE. —and began to look about you for other ideals—
I found none, none after you.
And no other models, Arnold?
You were no model to me. You were the fountainhead of my achievement.
[Is silent for a short time.] What poems have you made since? In marble I mean. Since the day I left you.
I have made no poems since that day—only frittered away my life in modelling.
And that woman, whom you are now living with—?
[Interrupting vehemently.] Do not speak of her now! It makes me tingle with shame.
Where are you thinking of going with her?