“She is dead?”
“Yes.”
“What a pity. And you are not engaged?”
“Well, only in a way. I don’t think I shall ever marry him; not, at any rate, until I’m famous. You see, he’s foolish about the stage, too. Seemed to think it would spoil me.”
Eliphalet’s eyes wandered to the white boots elaborately displayed for his benefit.
“Poor young man,” was his comment.
“He’s a great dear, of course, and I like him very much, but I couldn’t let him stand in the way of my career, could I?”
“He won’t.”
“I’m so glad you agree with me.”
“Real love does not stand in the way of an artistic career, it advances it.”