springs up--out of the lap of the actual--and shows you there's always
something to be done. But I shan't do it--she's not for me!"

"How do you mean, not for you?"

"Oh it's all over--she's for you, if you like."

"Ah much less!" said Paul. "She's not for a dingy little man of letters;
she's for the world, the bright rich world of bribes and rewards. And
the world will take hold of her--it will carry her away."

"It will try--but it's just a case in which there may be a fight. It
would be worth fighting, for a man who had it in him, with youth and
talent on his side."

These words rang not a little in Paul Overt's consciousness--they held
him briefly silent. "It's a wonder she has remained as she is; giving
herself away so--with so much to give away."

"Remaining, you mean, so ingenuous--so natural? Oh she doesn't care a
straw--she gives away because she overflows. She has her own feelings,
her own standards; she doesn't keep remembering that she must be proud.
And then she hasn't been here long enough to be spoiled; she has picked
up a fashion or two, but only the amusing ones. She's a provincial--a
provincial of genius," St. George went on; "her very blunders are
charming, her mistakes are interesting. She has come back from Asia with
all sorts of excited curiosities and unappeased appetities. She's first-
rate herself and she expends herself on the second-rate. She's life
herself and she takes a rare interest in imitations. She mixes all
things up, but there are none in regard to which she hasn't perceptions.