“Of course. Contentment in creative work means that we have nothing more to create.”
She nodded and smiled:
“The youngest born is the most tenderly cherished—until a new one comes. It is that way with me; I am all love and devotion and tenderness and self-sacrifice while fussing over my youngest. Then a still younger comes, and I become like a heartless cat and drive away all progeny except the newly born.”
She sighed and smiled and looked up at him:
“It can’t be helped, I suppose—that is, if one’s going to have more progeny.” 319
“It’s our penalty for producing. Only the newest counts. And those to come are to be miracles. But they never are.”
She nodded seriously.
“When there is a better light I should like to show you some of my studies,” she ventured. “No, not now. I am too vain to risk anything except the kindest of morning lights. Because I do hope for your approval––”
“I know they’re good,” he said. And, half laughingly: “I’m beginning to find out that you’re a rather wonderful and formidable and overpowering girl, Ruhannah.”
“You don’t think so!” she exclaimed, enchanted. “Do you? Oh, dear! Then I feel that I ought to show you my pictures and set you right immediately––” She sprang to her feet. “I’ll get them; I’ll be only a moment––”