Paul was startled for a moment, then laughed in high amusement at the idea of a railway king's daughter eking out her income by Art.
"I mean it. I'm not as noble as I look, but thank you for the compliment all the same. If I have allowed myself any illusions on the point, they were all dissipated when I heard of the price a Salon picture sold for last year. My feeling of envy was too naked to be mistaken—naked and unashamed. I don't know if you've ever experienced the sort of thing—whether you've ever written poetry to keep your self-respect."
"I fear writing poetry would be no test for me. I don't mean to imply that the result would not be unsaleable," he added, smiling, "but that I am not so avaricious as you profess to be. I am quite satisfied that my work in life shall bring me no return."
"I wish I were as fine as that," said Miss Brooke.
"I am afraid I am far from being fine," said Paul, modestly. "I am simply content with my fortune. As you said before, one must do something to fill one's life. I am only too grateful for the prospect of being able to employ my energies. So you see I am really selfish at bottom."
"We each appear to have a due sense of the clay in us, so let us agree we are neither of us precisely the saints we appear. But you've not yet told me in what particular way you purpose satisfying that selfishness of yours."
"Thereby hangs a long tale," said Paul, laughing again. "It is connected with the family tradition I mentioned to you before."
"I remember. Your father laid some injunction on you about converting missionary energies and subscriptions for home use."
"That is a quaint way of putting it. It is true his injunction first set me thinking, and it led to my developing certain Utopian ideas of my own. As the result, I am now studying architecture. No doubt you will think it a strange choice. There begins another dance, and we've both partners."
"How vexatious!" said Miss Brooke. "Just when I am so interested. I am really longing to hear all about your Utopia."