“I’m sorry, but you asked me to speak the truth. Besides, I love you too much to pretend about your work. It’s strong, it’s patient sometimes,—not always,—and sometimes there’s power in it, but there’s no special reason why it should be done at all. At least, that’s how it strikes me.”
“There’s no special reason why anything in the world should ever be done. You know that as well as I do. I only want success.”
“You’re going the wrong way to get it, then. Hasn’t Kami ever told you so?”
“Don’t quote Kami to me. I want to know what you think. My work’s bad, to begin with.”
“I didn’t say that, and I don’t think it.”
“It’s amateurish, then.”
“That it most certainly is not. You’re a work-woman, darling, to your boot-heels, and I respect you for that.”
“You don’t laugh at me behind my back?”
“No, dear. You see, you are more to me than any one else. Put this cloak thing round you, or you’ll get chilled.”
Maisie wrapped herself in the soft marten skins, turning the gray kangaroo fur to the outside.