"Oh yes,—I don't think: I know. I'm so awfully sorry for him."
"And pity is akin to——"
"Oh but it's not pity and it's not love. It's something else altogether. It makes me in such a rage. I don't think I can make You understand, that's all."
"Try."
"Oh well—do You remember Max Alvary?"
"The singer-man? Yes. Why?"
"Oh, don't You know what I said when I saw him in 'Siegfried.' You see, first I saw the splendour of his beauty; and then, when it came to the 'Idyll,' I got into a rage and I said 'and that voice too.'"
"What did you mean?"
"Oh it seemed so abominably unrighteous—all that beauty, and all that voice as well. That he should have two gifts;—and that others,—I, for instance,—should have not one!"
"What has this to do with Macleod?"