"Well, the question is, does he understand himself? What's more, are you sure you understand him? Ted is two people rolled into one, and very badly rolled too. The human part of him has hardly begun to grow yet; he's got no practical common-sense to speak of, and only a rudimentary heart." "Oh, Katherine!" "Quite true,--it's all I had at his age. But the ideal, the artistic side of him is all but full-grown. That means that it's just at the critical stage now." "Of course, I suppose it would be." Audrey always said "Of course" when she especially failed to see the drift of what was said to her. "Yes; but do you realise all that the next few years will do for him? That they will either make or ruin his career as an artist? They ought to be years of downright hard work, of solitary hard work; he ought to have them all to himself. Do you mean to let him have them?" Audrey lowered her eyes, and sat silent, playing with the ribbons of her dress, while Katherine went on as if to herself-- "He is so young, so dreadfully young. It would have been soon enough in another ten years' time. Oh, Audrey, why did you let it come to this?" "Well, really, Katherine, I couldn't help it. Besides, one has one's feelings. You talk as if I was going to stand in Ted's way--as if I didn't care a straw. Surely his career must mean more to his wife than it can to his sister? I know you think that because I haven't been trained like you, because I've lived a different life from yours, that I can't love art as you do. You're mistaken. To begin with, I made up my mind ten years ago that whatever I did when I grew up, I wouldn't marry a nonentity. What do you suppose Ted's fascination was, if it wasn't his genius, and his utter unlikeness to anybody else?" "Geniuses are common enough nowadays; there are plenty more where he came from." "How cynical you are! You haven't met many people like Ted, have you?" "No, I haven't. Oh, Audrey, do you _really_ care like that? I wonder how I should feel if I were you, and knew that Ted's future lay in my hands, as it lies in yours." Audrey's cheeks reddened with pleasure. "It does! It does!" She clasped her little hands passionately, as if they were holding Ted and his future tight. "I know it. All I want is to inspire him, to keep him true to himself. Haven't I done it? You know what his work was like before he loved me. Can you say that he ever painted better than he does now, or even one-half as well?" Katherine could not honestly say that he had; but she smiled as she answered, "No; but for the last six months he has done nothing from anybody but yourself. You make a very charming picture, Audrey, but you can hardly want people to say that your husband can only paint one type." "My husband can paint as many types as he pleases." Katherine still looked dubious. "Anything more?"