I want to make a confession.

I have got down, now, to where I am not only willing to acknowledge to myself that I am a shabby creature and full of false pride, but am willing to acknowledge it to you.

Well, I've been allowing you to wear yourself out hunting for work for me when there's been a chance open to me all the time.

Forgive my pride--what was left of it.

It is all gone, now, and I've come to confess that if those ghastly artists want another confederate, I'm their man--for at last I am dead to shame." "No?
Really, can you paint ?" "Not as badly as they.