takes the shine out of Paris.'

They had agreed to start work at once, losing no time, for they wanted
to have a lot to show on their return to France, that their scheme might
justify itself. Ferdinand wished to accompany Valentia on her search for
the picturesque, but she would not let him; so, after breakfast, he sat
himself down in the summer-house, and spread out all round him his nice
white paper, lit his pipe, cut his quills, and proceeded to the
evolution of a masterpiece. Valentia tied the red strings of her
sun-bonnet under her chin, selected a sketchbook, and sallied forth.

At luncheon they met, and Valentia told of a little bit of canal, with
an old windmill on one side of it, which she had decided to paint, while
Ferdinand announced that he had settled on the names of his _dramatis
personae_. In the afternoon they returned to their work, and at night,
tired with the previous day's travelling, went to bed soon after dinner.

So passed the second day; and the third day, and the fourth; till the
end of the week came, and they had worked diligently. They were both of
them rather surprised at the ease with which they became accustomed to
their life.

'How absurd all this fuss is,' said Valentia, 'that people make about
the differences of the sexes! I am sure it is only habit.'

'We have ourselves to prove that there is nothing in it,' he replied.
'You know, it is an interesting experiment that we are making.'

She had not looked at it in that light before.

'Perhaps it is. We may be the fore-runners of a new era.'

'The Edisons of a new communion!'

'I shall write and tell Monsieur Rollo all about it.'

In the course of the letter, she said,--

'_Sex is a morbid instinct. Out here, in the calmness of the canal
and the broad meadows, it never enters one's head. I do not think
of Ferdinand as a man--_'

She looked up at him as she wrote the words. He was reading a book and
she saw him in profile, with the head bent down. Through the leaves the
sun lit up his face with a soft light that was almost green, and it
occurred to her that it would be interesting to paint him.

'_I do not think of Ferdinand as a man; to me he is a companion. He
has a wider experience than a woman, and he talks of different
things. Otherwise I see no difference. On his part, the idea of my
sex never occurs to him, and far from being annoyed as an ordinary
woman might be, I am proud of it