know it is the most powerful thing in the world. If I had to
choose between a glorious reputation with poverty and a
contemptible popularity with wealth, I should choose the latter.'

'No!'

'I should.'

'Perhaps you are right.'

He turned away with a sigh.

'Yes, you are right. What is reputation? If it is deserved, it
originates with a few score of people among the many millions who
would never have recognised the merit they at last applaud.
That's the lot of a great genius. As for a mediocrity like me--
what ludicrous absurdity to fret myself in the hope that
half-a-dozen folks will say I am "above the average!" After all,
is there sillier vanity than this? A year after I have published
my last book, I shall be practically forgotten; ten years later,
I shall be as absolutely forgotten as one of those novelists of
the early part of this century, whose names one doesn't even
recognise. What fatuous posing!'

Amy looked askance at him, but replied nothing.

'And yet,' he continued, 'of course it isn't only for the sake of
reputation that one tries to do uncommon work. There's the
shrinking from conscious insincerity of workmanship--which most
of the writers nowadays seem never to feel. "It's good enough for