and generally come out at the end wearing the halo of
the redeemed. He always reminds me of Cruikshank's picture
of the ghost being put out by the extinguisher in the
'Christmas Carol.' His genius is the ghost, and
conventionality is the extinguisher. But it _is_ genius,
so it's a pity."

"It seems to me that Howells deals honestly with his
materials," Janet said, instinctively stilling the jar
of Elfrida's regardless note. She was so pretty, this
new creature, and she had such original ways. Janet must
let her talk about _romans psychologiques_, or worse
things, if she wanted to. "To me he has a tremendous
appearance of sincerity, psychological and other. But do
you know, I don't think the English or American people
are exactly calculated to reward the sort of vivisection
you mean. The _bete_ is too conscious of his moral fibre
when he's respectable, and when he isn't respectable he
doesn't commit picturesque crimes, he steals and boozes.
I dare say he's bestial enough, but pure unrelieved filth
can't be transmuted into literature, and as a people
we're perfectly devoid of that extraordinary artistic
nature that it makes such a foil for in the Latins. That
is really the only excuse the naturalists have."

"Excuse!" Elfrida repeated, with a bewildered look. "You
had Wainwright," she added hastily.

"_Nous nous en felicitons!_ We've got him still--in Madame
Tussaud's," cried Janet "He poisoned for money in cold
blood--not exactly an artistic vice! Oh, _he_ won't
do!"--she laughed triumphantly--"if he did write charming
things about the Renaissance! Besides, he illustrates my
case; among us he was a phenomenon, like the elephant-headed
man. Phenomena are for the scientists. You don't mean
to tell me that any literature that pretends to call
itself artistic has a right to touch them."

By this time they had absolutely forgotten that up to
twenty minutes ago they had never seen each other before.
Already they had mutely and unconsciously begun to rejoice
that they had come together; already each of them promised
herself the exploration of the other's nature, with the
preliminary idea that it would be a satisfying, at least
an interesting process. The impulse made Elfrida almost
natural, and Janet perceived this with quick
self-congratulation. Already she had made up her mind
that this manner was a pretty mask which it would be her
business to remove.

"But--but you're not in it!" Elfrida returned. "Pardon
me,