Morris had sent Rossetti a copy of Sigurd the Volsung when it appeared. As time went by, and no letter of thanks or appreciation arrived from him, Morris grew more and more annoyed. Eventually, one morning he charged — he was a very burly man — into Rossetti's studio and at once broached the subject with a typical directness.
`Evidently', he boomed at his friend, who was painting, `you do not like my book, or you would have written to me about it'
`To tell you the truth, Topsy,' the other confessed with nonchalance, `I must own that I find it difficult to take much interest in a man whose father was a dragon.'
Morris at once brought the conversation down to more human level by roaring out,
`I don't see it's any odder than having a brother who's an idiot!' and rushed out of the room.
From Sitwell, Noble Essences, p. 47.
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