He fell back in his chair again and kicked his heels.
"If this sort of thing is to go on," he said weakly, "I shall begin to doubt the superiority of art to life.

In Heaven's name, do not play with me.

Do you really mean that you are--God help me!--a Notting Hill patriot; that you are-- ?" Wayne made a violent gesture, and the King soothed him wildly.
"All right--all right--I see you are; but let me take it in.

You do really propose to fight these modern improvers with their boards and inspectors and surveyors and all the rest of it ?" "Are they so terrible ?" asked Wayne, scornfully.
The King continued to stare at him as if he were a human curiosity.
"And I suppose," he said, "that you think that the dentists and small tradesmen and maiden ladies who inhabit Notting Hill, will rally with war-hymns to your standard ?" "If they have blood they will," said the Provost.
"And I suppose," said the King, with his head back among the cushions, "that it never crossed your mind that"-- his voice seemed to lose itself luxuriantly--"never crossed your mind that any one ever thought that the idea of a Notting Hill idealism was--er--slightly--slightly ridiculous ?" "Of course they think so," said Wayne.
"What was the meaning of mocking the prophets ?" "Where," asked the King, leaning forward--"where in Heaven's name did you get this miraculously inane idea ?" "You have been my tutor, Sire," said the Provost, "in all that is high and honourable." "Eh ?" said the King.
"It was your Majesty who first stirred my dim patriotism into flame.
Ten years ago, when I was a boy (I am only nineteen), I was playing on the slope of Pump Street, with a wooden sword and a paper helmet, dreaming of great wars.

In an angry trance I struck out with my sword, and stood petrified, for I saw that I had struck you, Sire, my King, as you wandered in a noble secrecy, watching over your people's welfare.