go on with your sculpture or
not," he said, "those four years of Europe have done more for you than a
college course."

She represented everything antithetic to the trail and the farm. She
knew little of New England and nothing of the Mountain West. In many
ways she was entirely alien to my life and yet--or rather because of
that--she interested me. Filled with theories concerning
art--enthusiasms with which the "American Colony" in Paris was aflame,
she stated them clearly, forcibly and with humor. Her temper in argument
was admirable and no man had occasion to talk down at her--as Browne,
who was a good deal of a conservative, openly acknowledged.

She was all for "technique," it appeared. "What America needs more than
subject is skill, knowledge of how to paint," she declared. "Anything
can be made beautiful by the artist's brush."

At the close of a most delightful evening Fuller and I took our
departure together, and we were hardly out of the door before he began
to express open, almost unrestrained admiration of Zulime Taft. "She's a
very remarkable girl," he said. "She will prove a most valuable addition
to our circle."

"Yes," I admitted with judicial poise, "she is very intelligent."

"Intelligent!" he indignantly retorted. "She's a beauty. She's a prize.
Go in and win."

Although I did not decide at that moment to go in and win, I was
profoundly affected by his words. Without knowing anything more about
her than these two meetings gave me, I took it for granted--quite
without warrant, that Fuller had learned from Lorado that she was not
committed to any one. It was fatuous in me but on this assumption I
acted.

By reference to letters and other records I find that I dined at the
Browne's on the slightest provocation. I suspect I did so without any
invitation at all, for while Miss Taft did not betray keen interest in
me she did not precisely discourage me. I sought her company as often as
possible without calling especial attention to my action, and as she
gave no hint of being friendlier with any other man, I went cheerily,
blindly along.

One afternoon as I was taking tea at one of the great houses of the Lake
Shore Drive, she came into the room with the easy grace of one
habituated to meeting people of wealth and distinction. Neither arrogant
nor humble, her self-respecting composure fairly sealed her conquest so
far as I was concerned.

The group of artists surrounding Taft had formed an infor