He said the artist belonged to his Art, and to posterity through his Art.

The essay fairly bristled with many-lettered words and high-sounding phrases, few of which Billy really understood.

She did understand enough, however, to feel, guiltily, when the thing was finished, that already she had married Bertram, and by so doing had committed a Crime.

She had slain Art, stifled Ambition, destroyed Inspiration, and been a nuisance generally.

In consequence of which Bertram would henceforth and forevermore be doomed to Littleness.
Naturally, in this state of mind, and with this vision before her, Billy was anything but her bright, easy self when she met Bertram an hour or two later.