.

"Get in!" she rather commanded. "My dear Jimmy, how _nice_ to find you
here, and how nice to drive you at least as far as the entrance!"

As the rebuffed philanthropist accepted he cast a ruthful glance at the
solitary figure on the bench.

"Do you see that poor girl over there? She's an American, and in real
trouble."

"My _dear_ Jimmy!" His companion's tone left him in no doubt as to her
scepticism.

"Oh, I know, I know," he interrupted, "but she's not a fraud. She's
the real thing."

They were already gayly whirling away from the sad little figure.

"Did you make her cry?"

"I? Certainly not."

"Then let the man who did wipe her tears away!"

But Bulstrode had seen the face of the girl, and he was haunted by it
all day until the Bois and its bright atmosphere became only the
setting for an unhappy woman, young and lovely, whom it had been
impossible for him to help.

Somebody had said that Bulstrode should have his portrait done with his
hands in his pockets, and Mrs. Falconer had replied, "Or rather with
_other_ people's hands in his pockets!"

The next afternoon he found himself part of a group of people who, out
of charity and curiosity, patronized the Western Artists' Exhibition in
the Rue Monsieur.

Having made a ridiculously generous donation to the support of this
league at the request of a certain lovely lady, Bulstrode followed his
generosity by a personal effort, and with not much opposition on his
part permitted himself to be taken to the exhibition.

He was not, in the ultra sense of the word, a _connaisseur_, but he
thought he knew a horror when he saw it! So he said, and on this
afternoon his eyes ached and his offended taste cried out before he had
patiently travelled half-way down the line of canvases.

"My dear lady," he confided _sotto voce_ to his friend, "I feel more
inclined to establish a fund for sending all these young women back to
the _prairies_, if that's where they come from, than to aid in this
slaughter of public time and taste. _Why_ don't they stay at home--and
marry?"

"That's a vulgar and limited point of view to take," his friend
reproached him. "Don't you acknowledge that a woman has many careers
instead of one? _You_ seem to be thoroughly enjoying your liberty!
What if I should ask you why _you_ don't stay at home, and marry?"

Bulstrode looked at his guide comprehensively and smiled gently. His
response was irrelevant. "Look at this picture!