“You mean they wouldn’t have to know too much?”
“That’s it ... not know too much. They would have to sink their individuality in ... in one who couldn’t.... Your father suggested a partnership. But it wouldn’t be fair, would it? Besides I should be terribly trying to work with ... terribly trying ... perhaps impossible.”
“Do you think you would be?”
“In a partnership, yes. It couldn’t answer. I’m so creative.... I have always to stamp myself on my work ... if you know what I mean. Then ... as I say ... I don’t know yet ... that ... I can pick up all the threads that have been....”
“You need,” said Sally slowly and softly, “some intelligent amateur, capable of drawing a ground plan, who would give himself up to you.”
He threw up his head eagerly. “That’s it ... somebody quite intelligent ... but without ambition ... who would”—the voice began to tail off queerly—“have the courage ... not to mind ... the ferocious egotism ... of the ... baffled.” Suddenly he covered his face with his hands.
“It wouldn’t take me very long to learn the rudiments, I think,” said Sally. “I’m rather quick at picking up the things that interest me. It would be enormously interesting to see what could be done with this—this——”
“But you are off to France to-morrow.”
“The war won’t last forever.”
The tone of her voice startled him. His heart leapt queerly. There was a time, not so long ago, when he would have given his soul to have surprised just that note in it. He began to shake violently.