'I'll tell you one of these days when I know you better.'

'Will you?'

The conversation paused a moment, and Mildred said:

'How wonderful it is here. Those pines, that sky, one hears the
silence; it enters into one's very bones. It is a pity one cannot
paint silence.'

'Millet painted silence. "The Angelus" is full of silence, the air
trembles with silence and sunset.'

'But the silence of the moonlight is more awful, it really is very
awful, I'm afraid.'

'Afraid of what? there's nothing to be afraid of. You asked me just
now if I believed in Daveau's, I didn't like to say; I had only just
been introduced to you; but it seems to me that I know you better
now... Daveau's is a curse. It is the sterilisation of art. You must
give up Daveau's, and come and work here.'

'I'm afraid it would make no difference. Elsie and Cissy have spent
years here, and what they do does not amount to much. They wander from
method to method, abandoning each in turn. I am utterly discouraged,
and made up my mind to give up painting.'

'What are you going to do?'