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She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. On the way he confessed. “We’ve all been mixing our ideas, and we’ve got intellectual hot coppers— every blessed one of us. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful. The assemblage was for the most part, if not altogether, composed of persons to whom vice in all its aspects was too familiar to present much of novelty, in whatever form it was exhibited.
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