Tom smiled, and was serious. “To succeed, for most of us, means breaking through an iron barrier. Even those of us who do so cannot escape a little maiming.” “You are so violent in your statements, Tom!” The idea of Cornelia maimed was nonsense to him. They went on talking of her new season’s work. “There were a number of unfortunate little changes she had to submit to in her exhibit. I was heart-broken. But thank the Lord, Cornelia is sensible. Else, she might be a good artist but she’d be broke.” “Why won’t they let people alone, when they have beautiful things to say?” “Oh, they will, quick enough! Strictly alone. They’ll not pester them with orders. You mustn’t take Cornelia’s art too seriously, David. It is chiefly her art of living. If you think her very pretty statues great, you’ll be taking to heart every word she tells you....” All subtly merged with his love for her and his loyalty and knowledge of the years when he had slaved for her and given her her chance. David could not bring himself to the consciousness of an objection. He said to himself: “Tom is simply honest beyond any honesty I have ever imagined.” He was right. Tom was. He was not disloyal to his sister. He said no word of untruth. He was as kind and as loving as he had ever been. As ten years before, he would have sacrificed much for her welfare. But she was playing a game against him: and he answered. David came to believe the hot-and-cold of talk with Tom and Cornelia Rennard an atmosphere implied in friendship with such clever, exceptional folk. He began to feel that Tom’s candor was to be prized, even if it was not always easy to interpret: and that Cornelia’s warm encouragement was to be discounted, since it meant escape from the ungenerous reality Tom told him he must soon or late confront. Because of, and in spite of her sweet charm, Cornelia somehow must be discounted. He was sure he cared no less for her. He was a man: he was understanding a woman’s natively circumscribed philosophy, her natural taste for a reserved and personal world. Cornelia stood already, artist though she was and rebel at least in one gesture of her life--for Family. Tom was the world of affairs and of adventure. Oh, yes: David began to see all that. So of course he could understand the little flares of strain between the two. When Cornelia’s attitude implied a rebuke of her brother’s ways, he must listen sweetly to her words--as true to herself and her world--and not too seriously apply them. Pure Tom all this. But only Cornelia knew it. “What on earth are you trying to do with him?” she asked her brother. “My dear Cornelia, how you talk!” “Listen!”