"I can understand that, but I also know that genius is too abnormal to accept any such reasoning, no matter what the highly developed brain may be capable of. Unknown to yourself you have become the victim first of an idea, then of a habit. You will struggle and exhaust yourself and end by hating yourself and me. You have no doubt that this would be a greater work than your greatest?"
"Oh, no! no!"
"Then do me the justice to make one attempt at least to write it. Come to the library!"
His face had been turned from her for some moments, but at the last words, so full of concrete suggestion, he moved irresistibly and she saw that his eyes were blazing with eagerness, with a desire she had never seen.
"Come," she said.
He stared at her, through her, miles beyond her, then turned mechanically toward his library. "Perhaps," he muttered. "Who knows? Why not?"