'I have always supposed'--she added, with hesitation, for experience was lacking--'that two people fall in love when they are fitted for each other. But in this, your wonderful Way of Pleasure, the poets write as if every man was always wanting to make love to every woman if she is pleasant to look at, and without troubling whether she is good or bad, wise or silly. Oh! every woman! any woman! there is neither dignity of manhood nor self-respect nor respect to woman in this folly.' 'You cannot understand any of it, Armorel,' said Roland. 'We ought all of us to be flogged from Newgate to Tyburn.' 'That would not make me understand. Flora, Chloe, Daphne, Amaryllis--they are all the same to the poet. A pretty girl seems all that he cares for. Can that be love?' '--And back again,' said Roland. 'Still I should not understand. In the poetry I think that love-making comes first, and eating and drinking afterwards. As for love-making,' she spoke philosophically, as one in search of truth, 'as for love-making, I believe I could wait contentedly without it until I found exactly the one man I could love. But that I should take a delight in writing or singing songs about making love to every man who was a handsome fellow--any man--every man--oh! can one conceive such a thing? There is but one Way of Pleasure to such as you, Roland. If I could paint so good a picture as this is going to be, it would be a life-long joy. I should never, never, never tire of it. I should want no other pleasure--nothing better--than to work day after day, to work and study, to watch and observe, to feel the mastery of hand and eye. Oh! Roland--with this before you--with this'--she pointed to the picture--'you sold your soul--you--you--you!--for feasting and drinking and--and--perhaps----' 'No, Armorel: no. Everything else if you like, but not love-making.' CHAPTER XIII THE DRAMATIST