d hours, for a little distraction, like a game of tennis or of whist.
The only thing that can justify it, the effort to carry it as far as one
can (which you can't do without time and singleness of purpose), she
regards as just the dangerous, the criminal element. It's the oddest
hind-part-before view, the drollest immorality."

"She doesn't want one to be professional," Biddy returned as if she
could do justice to every system.

"Better leave it alone then. There are always duffers enough."

"I don't want to be a duffer," Biddy said. "But I thought you encouraged
me."

"So I did, my poor child. It was only to encourage myself."

"With your own work--your painting?"

"With my futile, my ill-starred endeavours. Union is strength--so that
we might present a wider front, a larger surface of resistance."

Biddy for a while said nothing and they continued their tour of
observation. She noticed how he passed over some things quickly, his
first glance sufficing to show him if they were worth another, and then
recognised in a moment the figures that made some appeal. His tone
puzzled but his certainty of eye impressed her, and she felt what a
difference there was yet between them--how much longer in every case she
would have taken to discriminate. She was aware of how little she could
judge of the value of a thing till she had looked at it ten minutes;
indeed modest little Biddy was compelled privately to add "And often not
even then." She was mystified, as I say--Nick was often mystifying, it
was his only fault--but one thing was definite: her brother had high
ability. It was the consciousness of this that made her bring out at
last: "I don't so much care whether or no I please mamma, if I please
you."

"Oh don't lean on me. I'm a wretched broken reed--I'm no use _really_!"
he promptly admonished her.

"Do you mean you're a duffer?" Biddy asked in alarm.

"Frightful, frightful!"

"So that you intend to give up your work--to let it alone, as you advise
_me_?"

"It has never been my work, all that business, Biddy. If it had it would
be different. I should stick to it."

"And you _won't_ stick to it?" the girl said, standing before him
open-eyed.

Her brother looked into her eyes a moment, and she had a compunction;
she feared she was indiscreet and was worrying him. "Your questions are
much simpler than the elements out of which my answer should come."

"A great talent--what's simpler than that?"

"One excel