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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Without on the other hand" Voyt seemed to assent "its giving at all a coherent impression of you." "She wants her romance cheap!" said Mrs. Dyott. "Oh no I should be willing to pay for it. I don't see why the romance since you give it that name should be all, as the French inveterately make it, for the women who are bad." "Oh they pay for it!" said Mrs. Dyott. "DO they?" "So at least" Mrs.
"Surely," Maud replied. "But if it's an innocent one " "Doesn't it depend a good deal," Mrs. Dyott asked, "on what you call innocent?" "You mean that the adventures of innocence have so often been the material of fiction? Yes," Voyt replied; "that's exactly what the bored reader complains of. He has asked for bread and been given a stone.
She kept her eyes on him and had evidently to admit after a little that there she was. Distinct as he had made the case, however, he wasn't yet quite satisfied. "Why are you so sure I'm the man?" "From the way she denies you." "You put it to her?" "Straight. If you hadn't been she'd of course have confessed to you to keep me in the dark about the real one." Poor Voyt laughed out again.
"We've spoiled her subject!" the elder lady sighed. "Well," said Voyt, "it's better to spoil an artist's subject than to spoil his reputation. I mean," he explained to Maud with his indulgent manner, "his appearance of knowing what he has got hold of, for that, in the last resort, is his happiness." She slowly rose at this, facing him with an aspect as handsomely mild as his own.
"I see," Voyt after a moment returned. "Your real calculation is that my interest will be sacrificed to my vanity so that, if your other idea is just, the flame will in fact, and thanks to her morbid conscience, expire by her taking fright at seeing me so pleased. But I promise you," he declared, "that she shan't see it. So there you are!"
"Doesn't it depend perhaps on what you mean by behaviour?" "Dear no. Behaviour's just behaviour the most definite thing in the world." "Then what do you mean by the 'interest' you just now spoke of? The picture of that definite thing?" "Yes call it that. Women aren't ALWAYS vicious, even when they're " "When they're what?" Voyt pressed. "When they're unhappy. They can be unhappy and good."
When you say we get always the same couple what do you mean but that we get always the same passion? Of course we do!" Voyt pursued. "If what you're looking for is another, that's what you won't anywhere find." Maud for a while said nothing, and Mrs. Dyott seemed to wait. "Well, I suppose I'm looking, more than anything else, for a decent woman."
It doesn't exist." "What is it?" Mrs. Dyott desired to know. "I never look," Maud remarked, "for anything but an interest." "Naturally. But your interest," Voyt replied, "is in something different from life." "Ah not a bit! I LOVE life in art, though I hate it anywhere else. It's the poverty of the life those people show, and the awful bounders, of both sexes, that they represent."
Dyott, left alone, moved with an air of selection to the window, and it was as so stationed, gazing out at the wild weather, that the visitor, whose delay to appear spoke of the wiping of boots and the disposal of drenched mackintosh and cap, finally found her. He was tall lean fine, with little in him, on the whole, to confirm the titular in the "Colonel Voyt" by which he was announced.
"You have to be in, you know, to GET out. So there you are already with your relation. It's the end of your goodness." "And the beginning," said Voyt, "of your play!" "Aren't they all, for that matter, even the worst," Mrs. Dyott pursued, "supposed SOME time or other to get out? But if meanwhile they've been in, however briefly, long enough to adorn a tale?"
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