They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room. "Precisely. Painting is only one slender branch of the great tree. It was something that would create a mutual claim, a relationship. ‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are. He was a philosopher. “Your brother has gone?” she asked Sydney, between the courses. Why should WE hoard? We aren’t going out presently, like Japanese lanterns in a gale. ‘Nevertheless, he will neither help me, nor will I seek his help. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip.
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