"So that we are obliged to see a good deal of each other." "And apparently you don't want to be friends with me." "There can be little in common between a mere quill-driver and--a _prima donna_." She turned on him swiftly.
"You seem to forget that at present you are a famous dramatist, while I am merely a musical student." "You divested yourself of that title for ever this evening," he returned, "It was no 'student' who sang 'The Haven of Memory.'" "All the same I shall have to study for a long time yet, Baroni tells me,"-- smiling a little.
"In that sense a great artiste is always a student.

But what I meant by saying that a mere writer has no place in a prima donna's life was that, whereas my work is more or less a hobby, and my little bit of 'fame'-- as you choose to call it--merely a side-issue, _your_ work will be your whole existence.

You will live for it entirely--your art and the world's recognition of it will absorb every thought.

There will be no room in your life for the friendship of insignificant people like myself." "Try me," she said demurely.
He swung round on her with a sudden fierceness.
"By God!" he exclaimed.

"If you knew the temptation.