f a lack
of frankness?

"And why," he asked, collecting himself, "did you think--" he got no
further.

"It's because you have an idea that I'm a selfish Epicurean, if that
isn't tautology--because I'm interested in a form of art, the rest of
the world can go hang. You have a prejudice against artists. I wish I
really were one, but I'm not."

This speech contained so many surprises for him that he scarcely knew
how to answer it.

"Give me a little time," he begged, "and perhaps I'll get over my
prejudices. The worst of them, at any rate. You are helping me to do
so." He tried to speak lightly, but his tone was more serious in the
next sentence. "It seems to me personally that you have proved your
concern for your fellow-creatures."

Her colour grew deeper, her manner changed.

"That gives me the opportunity to say something I have hoped to say,
ever since I saw you. I hoped I should see you again."

"You are not going away soon?" he exclaimed.

The words were spoken before he grasped their significance.

"Not at once. I don't know how long I shall stay," she answered
hurriedly, intent upon what was in her mind. "I have thought a great
deal about what I said to you that afternoon, and I find it more than
ever difficult to excuse myself. I shan't attempt to. I merely mean to
ask you to forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," he assured her, under the influence of
the feeling she had aroused.

"It's nice of you to say so, and to take it as you did--nicer than I can
express. I am afraid I shall never learn to appreciate that there may be
other points of view toward life than my own. And I should have realized
and sympathized with the difficulties of your position, and that you
were doing the best under the circumstances."

"No," he exclaimed, "don't say that! Your other instinct was the truer
one, if indeed you have really changed it--I don't believe you have." He
smiled at her again. "You didn't hurt my feelings, you did me a service.
I told you so at the time, and I meant it. And, more than that, I
understood."

"You understood--?"

"You were not criticizing me, you were--what shall I say?--merely trying
to iron out some of the inconsistencies of life. Well, you helped me
to iron out some of the inconsistencies of my own. I am profoundly
grateful."

She gazed at him, puzzled. But he did not, he could not enlighten her.
Some day she would discover what he meant.

"If so, I am glad," she said, in