"Thou--Nicholas!--Just as if I did not understand--I represent nothing but an agreeable passing of some moments to thee--Thou art not an _Amant_!--Not even a little pretense of loving me thou showest!"-- "But you said you never allowed yourself to care--perhaps I have the same idea--" She shook with laughter. "An artist at love thou, Nicholas--but no lover!" "It is a nice distinction--would you like me better if I were a lover?" "We have before spoken of this, _Mon ami_--If you were a lover--that is, if you loved--you would be dangerous even with your one leg and your one eye--a woman could be foolish for you. There is that air of _Grand seigneur_--that air of--mocking--of--_Mon Dieu!_ Something which I can't find my word for--Thou art _rudement chic cheri_!" I wished then that I had made the cheque larger--because there was something in her merry black eyes which told me she meant what she said--at the moment. I must be grateful to my money though after all--I could not be "_rudement chic_" or a "_Grand seigneur_" without it--Thus we get back to material things again! ----I wonder if material things could affect Miss Sharp?--One side of her certainly--or she could not have played that dance music----What can she think about all day?--certainly not my affairs, attending to them must be purely mechanical--. I know she is not stupid. She plays beautifully--she thinks--she has an air, and knowledge of the world. If I were not so afraid of losing her I would act toward her quite differently--I would chance annoying her by making her talk--but that fear holds me back. George Harcourt says that between men and women, no matter what the relation may be, one or the other holds the reins and is the real arbiter of things, and that if you find yourself not in the happy position of master, there are many occasions when a man must look ridiculous.--I feel ridiculous when I think about Miss Sharp. I am "demand" and she is "supply"--I am wanting every moment of her time, and to know all her thoughts--and she is entirely uninterested in me, and grants nothing. * * * * * Suzette left last evening in the best of moods--I made the cheque larger--and now I am awaiting Miss Sharp in my sitting-room--I love this hotel--it has an air of indifference about it which is soothing, and the food is excellent. * * * * * Miss Sharp arrived about eleven to-day. Her cheeks were quite pink when she came in, and I could see she was warm with walking.--I wish I had remembered to send to the station to meet her. "Do you think we shall be able to work here?" I asked her--"we have only the _résumé_ chapter to do, and then the book will be finished." "Why not here as well as any other place?" "Does not environment matter to you?" "I suppose it would if I were creating it, it does not matter now." "Do you ever write--I mean write on your own?" "Sometimes." "What sort of things?"