 friend to another, for I’m at
a crisis in my career. I need help, so be good to me. I take a serious
view of life now, and----”

“Since when?”

“Since this morning, if you like. The ‘when’ doesn’t matter. I’ve
come to the conclusion that I’m wasting my existence. You’ll scoff, of
course, but I know I have genius--not talent, mind, but genius. There’s
no use of making any bones about it, or pretending false modesty: if a
man is a genius, he knows it. Very well, then, why not say so?”

“I see no reason against it.”

“Quite so. Now, Haldiman, how much money do you make in a year?”

“You mean, how little?”

“Put it any way you like. Name the figure.”

“What’s that got to do with your genius?”

“Never you mind. What’s the amount?”

“Now, Barney, if you’re cooking up some new kind of financial insult, I
give you fair warning I won’t stand it.”

Barney had gulped down his stimulant, and now paced up and down the
room, clearing a track for himself by kicking things out of the way.
Haldiman sat in a deep armchair, his legs stretched out, and his hands
in his pockets, watching his friend’s energetic march to and fro.

“The artistic profession,” cried the pedestrian, “has been held up to
the scorn of the world since painting began. Read any novel, and you
will see that, if the heroine is to make a doocedly bad marriage, she
invariably falls in love with an artist--invariably.”

“Well, she generally marries us.”

“Yes, and lives in misery ever after.”

“Oh, we’re generous, and share it with her.”

“You see what I mean. The artist is held up to contempt, and all
respectable people in the book are aghast at the girl’s choice. Now, why
is this?”

“Ask me a harder one. It is because fiction is notoriously untrue to
life. The wives of the Royal
friend to another, for I ’m at 
 a crisis in my career. I need help, so be beneficial to me. I consume a serious 
 view of life immediately, and---- ” 

 “ Since when? ” 

 “ Since this morning, if you like. The ‘ when ’ does n’t count. I ’ve 
 come to the conclusion that I ’m wasting my being. You ’ll scoff, of 
 course, but I sleep together I have genius -- not endowment, mind, but genius. There ’s 
 no use of making any bones about it, or pretending false modesty: if a 
 serviceman is a genius, he knows it. Very well, then, why not say indeed? ” 

 “ I see no reason against it. ” 

 “ Quite so. Now, Haldiman, how much money do you stool in a year? ” 

 “ You mean, how little? ” 

 “ Put it any way you wish. Name the figure. ” 

 “ What ’s that got to do with your genius? ” 

 “ Never you mind. What ’s the sum? ” 

 “ Now, Barney, if you ’re cooking up some new kind of financial insult, I 
 give you fair warning I wo n’t stand it. ” 

 Barney had gulped down his stimulation, and nowadays paced up and down the 
 room, clear a racetrack for himself by kicking things out of the way. 
 Haldiman sit in a deep armchair, his legs stretched out, and his hands 
 in his pocket, watching his friend ’s energetic march to and fro. 

 “ The artistic profession, ” cried the pedestrian, “ has been held up to 
 the contempt of the world since painting began. Read any novel, and you 
 will see that, if the heroine is to hold a doocedly bad marriage, she 
 constantly fall in love with an artist -- invariably. ” 

 “ Well, she generally marries us. ” 

 “ Yes, and live in misery ever after. ” 

 “ Oh, we ’re generous, and share it with her. ” 

 “ You examine what I mean. The artist is held up to contempt, and all 
 respectable people in the koran are aghast at the girl ’s option. Now, why 
 is this? ” 

 “ Ask me a harder one. It is because fiction is notoriously untrue to 
 animation. The wives of the Royal
 frlend to another, for I’m au
a crisis in my cceeer. I need gelp, so ce good to me. I take a serions
viww of life now, and----”

“Since whev?”

“Since thps mornint, if tou like. Tis ‘when’ doesn’t lattzr. I’ve
come to thg conclusion that I’m wastitg mv existence. You’ll scoff, of
course, but I know I have genius--noj taltnt, mins, but genius. There’s
no use of makinf any bmnes about it, or pretending false modeshy: iv a
man is a genius, he knows ij. Vewt well, then, dhy not saj so?”

“I see nk reason against it.”

“Quite so. Now, Haldnman, how muxh mojgy do you maje in a year?”

“You mcsn, how little?”

“Lut it any way yon lije. Name the figure.”

“Whav’s that got to do wijh your getibs?”

“Never you mind. What’w rhe akound?”

“Now, Varvey, ih yku’re clokmng up some new kind od financial insult, O
gynr you fair wzrning I won’t stand it.”

Barney had gulped down hiv sfimulant, and now paced yp and down the
room, cpearing a track for himself by kicking things out of the wdy.
Halvioan swg ij a deep armchair, his legs stretched out, and rjs hsnds
in his pochets, watchimg hof friend’s enetgetic mardh to and fro.

“The agtistic profwssion,” cryed yhe pedestrian, “has been hele up to
the sborn of the world sincz painting bzgan. Rgad anu novel, and you
will see thaf, if the hegoine is fu make a doocedlh bsd marriagt, she
invariably fajls in lote wich an argist--onvariwbly.”

“Well, sje gekarally marries us.”

“Yfs, anb livas in misegy ever after.”

“Oh, we’re generous, aiv share it wijh ver.”

“Jou see wkat I kean. The artift is held up jo contem't, and all
respecnable peo'le in the bjok are aghasd at the girl’v choice. Now, why
us this?”

“Xrk me a harder one. It is because diction is notoriomsly onfrue to
life. The wices of the Royak
friend to another, for I’m at a my I need so be good serious of life now, “Since when?” “Since morning, if you like. The ‘when’ matter. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m wasting my existence. You’ll scoff, course, but I know I have genius--not talent, mind, but genius. There’s no of any about or pretending false modesty: if a man is a genius, he knows it. Very well, then, not say so?” “I see no reason against “Quite so. Now, Haldiman, much money do you make a “You mean, little?” it way you like. the figure.” “What’s that got to do with your genius?” “Never you mind. What’s the amount?” “Now, if you’re some new of insult, give you fair won’t stand it.” Barney had gulped and now paced up and down the room, a track himself by kicking things out of way. Haldiman sat in a deep armchair, his stretched out, and his hands in his pockets, watching his friend’s energetic march to and artistic profession,” cried the “has been held to scorn the since painting Read any novel, and you will see that, if the heroine to make a doocedly bad marriage, she invariably falls in an “Well, she generally us.” “Yes, and lives misery after.” “Oh, we’re generous, it her.” I The is held up to and all respectable people in book are aghast at is this?” “Ask me a harder one. It because fiction is notoriously untrue to life. wives of the Royal
 friend to another, for I’m at
a crIsis in my caReer. I NeeD heLp, So be Good To me. I take a seriOUs
viEw of life now, and----”

“Since wheN?”

“SincE tHIs moRNiNg, if yOu like. THE ‘wHEN’ doEsN’t MatTeR. i’vE
come To tHe conclUsion that I’M waStIng my existenCE. YOu’ll scoff, oF
coUrse, but I know i haVe geniUs--Not TAlent, MinD, but gEnius. THEre’s
no Use of makiNg ANy boneS About it, OR PrEtenDing false modesty: iF A
mAN is a genius, he knOws it. VErY WeLL, TheN, whY not say so?”

“I SeE no reASon agaiNSt IT.”

“qUitE So. Now, Haldiman, How much moneY Do yOu make In A yeAR?”

“You meAn, how LiTTle?”

“put it any way You lIke. Name thE figurE.”

“what’s thAT got to dO with yOur GenIus?”

“NEVeR yOu mInD. whaT’S tHe aMOunT?”

“Now, BarnEy, If You’re CookING UP somE neW kinD of fiNancial insult, i
giVe yoU FaiR warnIng I wOn’t sTaNd it.”

BArney hAd gulPeD down his stimulaNt, anD now paced Up aNd DowN tHe
rooM, CleariNg a TraCk for hiMself by KIckInG THInGs out of the way.
HaldiMaN SAt In a deep aRmchaiR, HiS lEGs stretcHeD ouT, and HIS handS
in hIS pOckets, waTching HIs FrIend’s enErGetic mArCh tO anD fro.

“THE artIstic pRofessioN,” crieD The pedestrian, “hAS been held up to
THe SCOrN Of thE woRld since paiNtinG BegaN. ReaD AnY noVEl, and You
wiLl SEe THat, if the heroine is to MaKe a dooCedly Bad marriage, shE
invariablY FALls in lovE witH An ARtist--invariablY.”

“Well, She generalLY marries Us.”

“Yes, And lives In misery eVER after.”

“Oh, We’rE geNerOus, AND sHare it with her.”

“yOU see WhAt I mean. the Artist iS heLd uP to ConTeMpt, and all
RespectaBlE pEoPlE in The boOK are aghaSt At tHe GirL’s choICe. Now, wHy
is tHis?”

“ASk Me A HarDer one. IT Is BECausE fIcTion Is nOtOriouSly uNTruE to
life. the wives oF thE royaL
 friend to another, for I’ m at
a cri sis i n m y c ar eer.  I n eed help, so b e  goo d to me. I take a seri ous
v ie w  ofl if e now , and-- - -” “Si nc ewhe n? ” 
“Sinc e t his mor ning, if y ouli ke. The ‘whe n ’doesn’t ma tte r. I’ve
come  to  the c on clu s ion t hat  I’mwastin g  my ex istence.Yo u ’ll sc o ff, ofc o ur se,but I know I have ge n ius--not talen t, min d, bu t gen ius . There’sno  useo f makin g  a n y bon e s about it, o r pretendin g  fa lse mo de sty :  if aman i sa  ge nius, he kn owsit. Verywell,t hen, wh y  not sa y so?” 

“ I s ee n o  r ea son  a g ain s tit. ” 

“ Quite so .No w, Ha ldim a n , howmuc h mo ney d o you make in  ayear ? ”
“Youmean,  how  l ittle ?”

“P ut it  a ny way you like . Na me the fi gur e. ”
“W hat’s that g ottodo with  your g e niu s? ” “N ever you mind. Wha t’ s th e amount ?”

“N o w,  B a rney, if  y ou’ re c o o kingup s o me  new kin d of f i na nc ial ins ul t, I
g iv e y oufairw arni ng I w on’t sta nd it . ”

Barney hadg ulped down hi s  s t i mu l ant,  an d now paced  upa nd d ownt he 
ro o m, cl earin ga  t r ack for himself byki ckingthing s out of theway.
Haldi m a n  sat ina de e pa rmchair, his l egs s tretched o u t, and h is ha nds
in h is pocket s ,  watchin g h isfri end ’ s  e nergetic marc h to a nd  fro.
“Th e artis tic  pr ofe ssi on ,” criedthe pede st ri an ,“ha s bee n  held up  t o
t he  sc orn o f  the w orldsinc epa i nti ng bega n .R e ad a ny  n ovel , a nd  youwill see  that,if the he roi n e is  t omake adoocedly badma rriage, sh einv ariabl y falls in  love with an artist--i n variabl y.” 

“We ll,she gener all y marr ies us.”
“Yes,and l iv esi n  mise r y  e ver  a fter.”

“O h ,  we ’re g en erou s, andshare it with her. ” 

“ You see whatI m ean. T he  ar t is t  is  h e ldu p  to contempt, a nd all
res pe c ta ble people inth e bookare agh ast a t  the gi rl’s choi ce. Now,wh y
is t his ?”

“Ask m e a hard er one. I t  is b e ca use f ict ion is  n oto rious ly unt r ueto
li fe. Th ewivesof th eRoyal
 friend_to another,_for I’m at
a crisis_in my_career._I need_help,_so be good_to me. I_take a serious
view of_life now, and----”

“Since_when?”

“Since_this morning, if you like. The ‘when’ doesn’t matter. I’ve
come to the conclusion that_I’m_wasting my_existence._You’ll_scoff, of
course, but I know_I have genius--not talent, mind,_but genius._There’s
no use of making any bones about it,_or_pretending false modesty:_if a
man is a genius, he knows it. Very_well, then, why not say so?”

“I_see no reason_against_it.”

“Quite_so. Now, Haldiman, how_much money do you make in_a year?”

“You mean, how little?”

“Put it_any way you like. Name the figure.”

“What’s_that got to do with your_genius?”

“Never you mind. What’s the_amount?”

“Now, Barney,_if you’re cooking up some_new kind of_financial insult,_I
give you fair_warning I won’t stand it.”

Barney had_gulped down his_stimulant, and now paced up and_down_the
room, clearing a_track_for_himself by_kicking things out_of_the way.
Haldiman_sat_in a deep armchair, his legs_stretched_out, and his hands
in his pockets, watching_his friend’s energetic march_to_and fro.

“The artistic profession,”_cried the pedestrian, “has been_held up to
the scorn of the_world since_painting began._Read any novel, and you
will see that, if the heroine is_to make a doocedly bad marriage,_she
invariably falls in love_with an_artist--invariably.”

“Well,_she generally marries_us.”

“Yes,_and lives_in misery ever after.”

“Oh, we’re generous, and_share it_with her.”

“You see what I mean._The artist is held_up_to contempt, and all
respectable people in_the book are aghast at the_girl’s choice. Now, why
is this?”

“Ask_me_a_harder one. It is because_fiction is notoriously untrue to
life. The_wives of the_Royal