"But you wanted to escape, all the time?"
"I didn't escape. I couldn't. I couldn't catch cholera, or plague, or sleeping sickness. I couldn't catch anything."
"You tried?"
"Oh, yes, I gave myself a chance. That was only fair. But it was no use. I couldn't even get frightened."
"Owen—some people would say you were morbid."
"No, they wouldn't. They'd say I was mad. They will say it when I've published those poems."
"Did you mind my showing them to George Tanqueray?"
"No. But it's no use. Nobody knows my name."
"May I show them to Jane Holland?"
"Show them to any one you like. It'll be no use either."