'Yes, that and magnetism, and temperament, and technique. Let's cut out technique altogether. Don't let there be any, that's the best way; then no-one can say anything about it. I'm fed up with it. Aren't you?' 'Oh, I don't agree with you at all. I think there ought to be any amount of technique, and personality, and magnetism, and temperament. I don't mind _how_ much technique there is, as long as nobody talks about it. But neither of these expressions is quite so bad as that dreadful thing you always find in American books, and that lots of people have caught up--especially palmists and manicures--mentality.' 'Yes, mentality's very depressing,' said Vincy. 'I could get along nicely without it, I think.... I had a long letter from Aylmer today. He seemed unhappy.' 'I had a few lines yesterday,' said Edith. 'He said he was having a very good time. What did he say to you?' 'Oh, he wrote, frankly to _me_.' 'Bored, is he?' 'Miserable; enamoured of sorrow; got the hump; frightfully off colour; wants to come back to London. He misses the Mitchells. I suppose it's the Mitchells.' Edith smiled and looked pleased. 'He asked me not to come here much.' 'Ah! But he wouldn't want you to go anywhere. That is so like Aylmer. He's not jealous; of course. How could he be? It's only a little exclusiveness.... And how delightfully rare that is, Edith dear. I admire him for it. Most people now seem to treasure anything they value in proportion to the extent that it's followed about and surrounded by the vulgar public. I sympathise with that feeling of wishing to keep--anything of that sort--to oneself.' 'You are more secretive than jealous, yourself. But I have very much the same feeling,' Edith said. 'Many women I know think the ideal of happiness is to be in love with a great man, or to be the wife of a great public success; to share his triumph! They forget you share the man as well!' 'I suppose the idea is that, after the publicity and the acclamation and the fame and the public glory and the shouting, you take the person home, and feel he is only yours, really.' 'But, can a famous person be only yours? No. I shouldn't like it. It isn't that I don't _like_ cleverness and brilliance, but I don't care for the public glory.' 'I see; you don't mind how great a genius he is, as long as he isn't appreciated,' replied Vincy. 'Well, then, in heaven's name let us stick to our obscurities!' CHAPTER XVII The Agonies of Aylmer