THE AMERICAN
"I 'd advise you not to be too fastidious," said Newman. "That's all the advice I can give you."
"I'm vexed at what I've said!" cried his companion. "It has done me no good. But I could n't help it."
"What good did you expect it to do you?"
"I could n't help it, simply."
He looked at her a moment. "Well, your painting may be a fraud, but you're too honest for me all the same. I don't understand you. Good-bye!" And he put out his hand.
She made no response, she granted him no farewell. She turned away and seated herself sidewise on a bench, leaning her head on the back of her hand, which clasped the rail in front of the pictures. Newman stood near her another moment, then he turned on his heel and retreated. He had understood her better than he confessed; this singular scene was a practical commentary upon her father's description of her as a free spirit.
