Then he said, still not meeting her eyes: "Whatever your beliefs are you practice them; you are true to your convictions, loyal to yourself.

I am only a miserable, rotten specimen of man who is true to nothing--not even to himself.

I'm not worth your trouble, Valerie." "Louis!" "Well, what am I ?" he demanded in fierce disgust.

"I have told you that I believe in the conventions--and I violate every one of them.

I'm a spectacle for gods and men!" His face was stern with self-disgust: he forced himself to meet her gaze, wincing under it; but he went on: "I know well enough that I deserve your contempt; I've acquired plenty of self-contempt already.