Tom said to him: “You didn’t like the way I was to-day with Durthal? Oh, my dear fellow, it was plain enough. It was written all over you. My only wonder was what poor old Lars was thinking. What a dear, black grouch you can be, Davie.... Well, why should I not be cordial to Lars? Why should I not pay as much attention to him as I wish? And more than I do to my best friend--yes, my best friend whom I ignored? I know that, Davie. In company I do not need to pay attention to you. You are not part of company. If I ignored you--logical, eh? I have _you_ alone. And if, in yourself, you do not know the difference in the way I feel toward yourself and toward silly, empty-headed Durthal, do not expect me to make it clear with a room full of fellows. Because I won’t!” “Do you think Durthal empty-headed?” “You know he has just enough stupidity to make an intelligent professor of Swedish drill.” “And Darby Lunn?” “Lunn has talent, David. Whether he will ever amount to a thing as a painter is another thing. I doubt it. He is a bit mad, you know. Nurtures all the nonsense of his will with a great pride instead of trampling it under, as a true artist should. What I am trying to help him toward is knowledge of the folly of extravagance and wildness in so sober a calling as Art.” “But you are wild with him, Tom. You talk nonsense and you act nonsense as I have never seen you do with any one else!” “If I didn’t meet him on his own ground, what chance would I have of drawing him off it?... Really, Davie, you are a joke.” “Are you very fond of him also?” “Not also--and not either. I am interested in Darby’s hopeless talent: and in Durthal’s efficient helplessness.” “They both believe, I am sure, that you’re devoted to them.” “Well: they are devoted to me. Why should I not let them think what gives them pleasure? Do I harm them--does what I let them think harm you?" ... David often wondered if each believed himself Tom’s “only friend.” But now he knew these doubts unworthy. He had a strength with which to exorcize them. He knew that _he_ was the real friend. He knew that Tom was not altogether conscious of his motives with such “friends” as Lunn and Durthal. The truth was, he loved power: loved the nearness of those over whose minds he was ascendant. Unconsciously, he fed to each a subjecting mental and emotional food. This was but one of the details of Tom’s curious character; David now understood.