I feel so wicked about it."
"Wickeder than usual?"
"You don't know all I think. It's almost too awful to tell."
"Never mind. You promised to tell me the truth--at least."
"It's so ungrateful of me, but--but, though I know you care for me, and I like
to have you with me, I'd--I"d even sacrifice you, if that would bring me what I
want."
"My poor little darling! I know that state of mind. It doesn't lead to good
work."
"You aren't angry? Remember, I do despise myself."
"I'm not exactly flattered,--I had guessed as much before,--but I'm not angry.
I'm sorry for you. Surely you ought to have left a littleness like that behind
you, years ago."
"You've no right to patronise me! I only want what I have worked for so long.
It came to you without any trouble, and--and I don't think it"s fair."
"What can I do? I"d give ten years of my life to get you what you want. But I
can't help you; even I can't help."
A murmur of dissent from Maisie. He went on--"And I know by what you have just
said that you're on the wrong road to success. It isn't got at by sacrificing
other people,--I've had that much knocked into me; you must sacrifice yourself,
and live under orders, and never think for yourself, and never have real
satisfaction in your work except just at the beginning, when you're reaching
out after a notion.
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