"I don't want to assume any absurd artistic pose," he continued. "I hate the affectations sometimes supposed to belong to my profession. But it's no use pretending about a thing of this kind. There are some places, some atmospheres, if you like to use the word generally used, that help anyone who tries to create, and some that hinder. It's not only a matter of place, I suppose, but of people. This house is too small, or something. There are too many people in it. I feel that they are all bothering and wondering about me, treading softly for me." He threw out his hands. "I don't know what it is exactly, but I'm paralyzed here. I suppose you think I'm half mad."
To his great surprise, she answered, in quite a different voice from the voice which had suggested outrage:
"No, no; great artists are always like that. They are always extraordinary."
There was a mysterious pleasure, almost gratification, in her voice.
"You would be like that. I should have known."
"Oh, as to that—"
"I understand, Claudie. You needn't say any more."
Claude turned rather brusquely round to face the fire. As he said nothing, Charmian continued:
"What is to be done now? We have taken this house—"
He wheeled round.