” He drew a little nearer to her. “What a little brick!” he murmured. Goopes said that we must distinguish between sincerity and irony, which was often indeed no more than sincerity at the sublimated level. He brought his mother to call, and as you know the Countess goes scarcely anywhere. Earles was absolutely indifferent. The winter had turned sea and sky to a wet gray. “Nor am I now,” he answered. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly. Wild is sure to be up.
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