She paused again, and then resumed: “You have settled in your mind, then, that I will never seriously listen to him?”
“I think it unlikely, until the contrary is proved.”
“How shall it be proved? How do you know what passes between us?”
“I can judge, of course, but from appearance; but, like you, I am an observer. Hudson has not at all the air of a prosperous suitor.”
“If he is depressed, there is a reason. He has a bad conscience. One must hope so, at least. On the other hand, simply as a friend,” she continued gently, “you think I can do him no good?”
The humility of her tone, combined with her beauty, as she made this remark, was inexpressibly touching, and Rowland had an uncomfortable sense of being put at a disadvantage. “There are doubtless many good things you might do, if you had proper opportunity,” he said. “But you seem to be sailing with a current which leaves you little leisure for quiet benevolence. You live in the whirl and hurry of a world into which a poor artist can hardly find it to his advantage to follow you.”
“In plain English, I am hopelessly frivolous. You put it very generously.”
“I won’t hesitate to say all my thought,” said Rowland. “For better or worse, you seem to me to belong, both by character and by circumstance, to what is called the world, the great world. You are made to ornament it magnificently. You are not made to be an artist’s wife.”
“I see. But even from your point of view, that would depend upon the artist. Extraordinary talent might make him a member of the great world!”
Rowland smiled. “That is very true.”