Paint something that will sell, and go on with the other work at the same time." "Something that will sell!" he exclaimed, with disgust.

"I can't, so there's an end of it." "And an end of your artist life, it seems to me.

Unless you have any other plan ?" "I wondered whether you could suggest any." Madeline shook her head slowly.

They both brooded in a cheerless way.
When the girl again spoke, it was in an undertone, as if not quite sure that she wished to be heard.
"I had rather you were an artist than anything else, Clifford." Marsh decided not to hear.

He thrust his hands deeper into his pockets, and trod about the floor heavily.