I must have offended her too by some thoughtless, stupid speech.

You know I'm not a favourite of hers, am I ?" "No," Lisa admitted with some reluctance, "she doesn't like you." Panshin ran his fingers quickly over the keys, and a scarcely perceptible smile glided over his lips.
"Well, and you ?" he said, "do you too think me an egoist ?" "I know you very little," replied Lisa, "but I don't consider you an egoist; on the contrary, I can't help feeling grateful to you." "I know, I know what you mean to say," Panshin interrupted, and again he ran his fingers over the keys: "for the music and the books I bring you, for the wretched sketches with which I adorn your album, and so forth.
I might do all that--and be an egoist all the same.

I venture to think that you don't find me a bore, and don't think me a bad fellow, but still you suppose that I--what's the saying ?--would sacrifice friend or father for the sake of a witticism." "You are careless and forgetful, like all men of the world," observed Lisa, "that is all." Panshin frowned a little.
"Come," he said, "don't let us discuss me any more; let us play our sonata.

There's only one thing I must beg of you," he added, smoothing out the leaves of the book on the music stand, "think what you like of me, call me an egoist even--so be it! but don't call me a man of the world; that name's insufferable to me....

Anch 'io sono pittore.