who believes all men are reprobates—passing tbe days almost entirely alone with him at Foutainebleau?"
"If she passed the days alone with him, whose fault was that?" cried Hatty, flaring up in her friend's defence. "You were huffed because she had more sympathy with his way of painting than with yours (of course she is all wrong, but that has nothing to do with it); and so you stalked off by yourself, and of course I followed you."
"She showed very plainly she didn't want me, either then or later."
"I am not surprised. You made yourself very disagreeable. You, who have a finer intelligence, and could make yourself so much more charming than any one here if you choose—you provoke me. Ally! If Miss Shaw avoids you, if she dislikes you, as you choose to imagine, all I can say is—I am not surprised."
Her excitement had brought a red spot into her cheek, and she lay back on the sofa, coughing.
Though he tried to appear unconcerned, there was a certain irritation in his tone as he replied, "Why worry yourself about your friend and me? We don't suit. I am not made, as you know, for this sort of life—bandying empty nothings with these French people. I suppose I am disagreeable—I can't pretend. And this girl, who begins by being an icicle, and ends by thawing before every man who—who chooses to make up to her—frankly, she makes me angry. She is a fine creature, I admit, and I am glad that you and she should be friends. But intimacy between two women is different from intimacy between man and woman. Just because this one has
