"Has not your desire to paint returned?"
"No."
"Do you know why?"
"Partly. I am up against a solid wall. There is no thoroughfare."
"Make one."
"Through the wall?"
"Straight through it."
"Ah, yes"—he murmured—"but what lies beyond?"
"It would spoil the pleasures of anticipation to know beforehand."
He turned to her: "You are good for me. Do you know it?"