I had a scene with
her in which I tried to express that the function of such a man was
to exercise his genius--not to serve as a hoarding for pictorial
posters. The people I was perhaps angriest with were the editors
of magazines who had introduced what they called new features, so
aware were they that the newest feature of all would be to make him
grind their axes by contributing his views on vital topics and
taking part in the periodical prattle about the future of fiction.
I made sure that before I should have done with him there would
scarcely be a current form of words left me to be sick of; but
meanwhile I could make surer still of my animosity to bustling
ladies for whom he drew the water that irrigated their social
flower-beds.
I had a battle with Mrs. Wimbush over the artist she protected, and
another over the question of a certain week, at the end of July,
that Mr. Paraday appeared to have contracted to spend with her in
the country. I protested against this visit; I intimated that he
was too unwell for hospitality without a nuance, for caresses
without imagination; I begged he might rather take the time in some
restorative way. A sultry air of promises, of ponderous parties,
hung over his August, and he would greatly profit by the interval
of rest.
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