“Oh, well, I don’t know for certain, you know,” she smiled, “but I hope for the best. And anyhow there’ll be no rent to pay and no novelettes to write.”
She had a feminine gift for delicate flattery. She thought that Philip did a brave thing when he left Paris because he was conscious he could not be a great artist; and he was enchanted when she expressed enthusiastic admiration for him. He had never been quite certain whether this action indicated courage or infirmity of purpose. It was delightful to realise that she considered it heroic. She ventured to tackle him on a subject which his friends instinctively avoided.