Alsager that most concerns us: she
thought him not only remarkably good-looking but altogether original.
There were some usual bad things he would never do--too many
prohibitive puddles for him in the short cut to success.
For himself, he had never been so happy as since he had seen his way,
as he fondly believed, to some sort of mastery of the scenic idea,
which struck him as a very different matter now that he looked at it
from within. He had had his early days of contempt for it, when it
seemed to him a jewel, dim at the best, hidden in a dunghill, a taper
burning low in an air thick with vulgarity. It was hedged about with
sordid approaches, it was not worth sacrifice and suffering. The man
of letters, in dealing with it, would have to put off all literature,
which was like asking the bearer of a noble name to forego his
immemorial heritage. Aspects change, however, with the point of
view: Wayworth had waked up one morning in a different bed
altogether. It is needless here to trace this accident to its
source; it would have been much more interesting to a spectator of
the young man's life to follow some of the consequences.
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