Rita Sohlberg, from the conventional point of view, was a dangerous person, and yet from her own point of view at this time she was not so at all--just dreamy and sweet.
A part of the peculiarity of her state was that Sohlberg had begun to disappoint Rita--sorely.

Truth to tell, he was suffering from that most terrible of all maladies, uncertainty of soul and inability to truly find himself.

At times he was not sure whether he was cut out to be a great violinist or a great composer, or merely a great teacher, which last he was never willing really to admit.

"I am an arteest," he was fond of saying.

"Ho, how I suffer from my temperament!" And again: "These dogs! These cows! These pigs!" This of other people.