"Science can't patronize Art while I'm around!" he retorted. "I won't have it!"
"But, my dear Mr. Blythe—"
"I won't dispute with you, either! I don't like to dispute!" he shouted. "Don't try to make me. Don't attempt to inveigle me into discussion! I know all I want to know. I don't want to know anything you want me to know, either!"
I looked at the old pig in haughty silence, nauseated by his conceit.
After he had plastered a few more tubes of vermilion over his canvas he quieted down, and presently gave me an oblique glance over his shoulder.
"Well," he said, "what else are you intending to investigate?"
"Those little animals that live in the crater fires," I said bluntly.
"Yes," he nodded, indifferently, "there are creatures which live somewhere in the fires of that crater."
"Do you realize what an astounding statement you are making?" I asked.
"It doesn't astound me. What do I care whether it astounds you or anybody else? Nothing interests me except Art."