Now it comes back." "Then you _have_ been in London ?" he probed, while she looked wistfully at the fringe of a wood in Brittany that stood upon his canvas.

Her eyes left the picture and wandered around the room.
"I!" she said again.

"In London?
Yes, I have been in London.

How _splendidly_ different you are!" she said, looking straight at him as if she stated a falling of the thermometer or a quotation from the Stock Exchange.
"But are you sure, _perfectly_ sure," she went on, with dainty emphasis, "that you can stay different?
Aren't you the least bit afraid that in the end your work may become--pardon me--commercial, like the rest?
Is there no danger ?" "I wish you would sit down," Kendal said ruefully.

"I shouldn't feel it so much, perhaps, if you sat down.