“Why?”
“Because she has a genius, and because she has been able to express her genius, and because she has succeeded in conquering the crowd. They don’t know how clever she is, but they go and see her dance. Think what it means being a supreme artist, and yet popular. For once the swine seem to appreciate the pearl.”
They were making their way through a crowd of loiterers at the corner of Tottenham Court Road, when a tall man brushed against them and stepped aside. He wore a black wideawake hat, a low collar with a bunchy black silk tie, and a loose black coat with a tuberose in the buttonhole. He stared first at Kate, and then at Eve with a queer, comprehensive, apprizing stare. Suddenly he took off his hat.
The women passed on.
“Beast!”
Kate’s mouth was iron.
“That was Hugh Massinger.”
“Hugh Massinger!”
“Yes.”
“Eve, I said ‘beast,’ and I still mean it.”