"Why do you say so when I've asked you to come here on purpose?"
"You've asked me to come, but I've had no success."
"On the contrary; every one thought you wonderful."
"Oh but they don't know!" said Miriam Rooth. "You've not said a word to me. I don't mind your not having praised me; that would be too banal. But if I'm bad—and I know I'm dreadful—I wish you'd talk to me about it."
"It's delightful to talk to you," Peter found himself saying.
"No, it isn't, but it's kind"; and she looked away from him.
Her voice had with this a quality which made him exclaim: "Every now and then you 'say' something—!"
She turned her eyes back to him and her face had a light. "I don't want it to come by accident." Then she added: "If there's any good to be got from trying, from showing one's self, how can it come unless one hears the simple truth, the truth that turns one inside out? It's all for that—to know what one is, if one's a stick!"
"You've great courage, you've rare qualities," Sherringham risked. She had begun to touch him, to seem different: he was glad she had not gone.
But for a little she made no answer, putting down her empty cup and yearning over the table as for something more to eat. Suddenly she raised her head and broke out with vehemence: "I will, I will, I will!"