Anyhow it was an Art; so his boyish prophecy had come true.

He had been struggling from childhood for a means of self-expression.

He had tried most of them save this.

Here he had found it.

He loved to play upon a crowd as if they were so many notes of a vast organ.
On this occasion Jane said: "And my means of self-expression is to play on the keys of a typewriter." "Your time hasn't come," he replied.