"Do you exhibit?"
"Exhibit? Court the empty praises or the empty sneers of an ignorant press? Never! I show my pictures to my friends. We confide our work to each other."
Hilarie smiled, and murmured something inaudible.
"And we keep the outer world outside. You, I fear"—he looked down the room—"admit the outer world. You lose a great deal. For instance, if this mob was out of your lovely house, I might bring my friends. It would be an ideal place for our pictures and our music, and for the acting of our plays."
"I fear the mob must remain." Hilarie began to doubt whether her college would appeal, after all, to this young man.
"What we should aim at in life," the artist continued, "is Art without Humanity."
"I should have said that Humanity is the basis of all Art."
Her cousin shook his head. "Not true Art—that is bodiless. I fear you do not yet belong to us."
"No; I belong to these girls, who are anything but bodiless."
"Your college, I take it, has something to do with helping people?"