reputation.

In spite of all this his little measure of success made him more
contemptuous than before of its scene and its elements. He declared
that he had a poorer idea than ever of society now that he saw the
pattern from the smart side. That his convictions on this head
survived one of the best Simla tailors shows that they must always
have been strong. I think he believed that he was doing all that he
did do to make himself socially possible with the purpose of
pleasing Dora Harris. I would not now venture to say how far Dora
inspired and controlled him in this direction, and how far the
impulse was his own. The measure of appreciation that began to seek
his pictures, poor and small though it was, gave him, on the other
hand, the most unalloyed delight. He talked of the advice of Sir
William Lamb as if it were anything but that of a pompous old ass,
and he made a feast with champagne for Blum that must have cost him
quite as much as Blum paid for the Breton sketch. He confirmed my
guess that he had never in his life until he came to Simla sold
anything, so that even these small transactions were great things to
him, and the earnest of a future upon which he covered his eyes not
to gaze too raptly. He mentioned to me that Kauffer had been asked
for his address--who could it possibly be?--and looked so damped by
my humourous suggestion that it was a friend of Kauffer's in some
other line who wanted a bill paid, that I felt I had been guilty of
brutality. And all the while the quality of his wonderful output
never changed or abated. Pure and firm and prismatic it remained.
I found him one day at the very end of October, with shining eyes
and fingers blue with cold, putting the last of the afternoon light
on the snows into one of the most dramatic hill pictures I ever knew
him to do. He seemed intoxicated with his skill, and hummed the