No, as sincere praise. I am never polite to people I like, and I like you.
Mrs. Tremaine.
Thanks. I like to be liked; and I can forgive your want of politeness, if you are never more brutally rude than you have been. I suppose I am to take it as the rudeness of a man of genius?
Denham.
No—like all unsuccessful people who worry themselves over art—I am only a man of some genius—a very different thing, I assure you.
Mrs. Tremaine.
Are you unsuccessful?
Denham.
A man who paints pictures that please only his wife is surely unsuccessful? But I don't want to bore you with myself. It only means that I feel we are friends already.
Mrs. Tremaine.