“But is your friend a good painter?” asked Philip.
“No, not yet, he paints just like Pissarro. He hasn’t found himself, but he’s got a sense of colour and a sense of decoration. But that isn’t the question. It’s the feeling, and that he’s got. He’s behaved like a perfect cad to his wife and children, he’s always behaving like a perfect cad; the way he treats the people who’ve helped him — and sometimes he’s been saved from starvation merely by the kindness of his friends — is simply beastly. He just happens to be a great artist.”