while I boil some tea. My friends who own this
work-shop are out; they'll be in soon."

"I don't believe I can stay to-day. The Captain is below."

"Please do sit down for a moment. I'll be hurt if you don't."

The studio was a big bare barn of a place with a few broad canvases upon
the walls--not a bit like Humiston; and he explained that his stay in
America being short, he could not afford to have a studio of his own.
"I'm glad you came. You must let me take you to see my 'show' next week.
Your fresh, young, Western eyes are just what I need." This was false,
for he was impatient of all criticism. "I need comfort," he added,
wearily smiling. "I didn't sell enough in the West to pay my railway
fare."

He seemed ill as well as sad, and Bertha felt sorry for him. "Won't you
come with us for a ride?"

"I'd rather have you stay and talk with me."

"Oh, I can't do that! The Captain is waiting for me. He said to bring
you."

"But I don't want to go. I hate automobiles. I hate seeing sights. I
despise this town. I've a grouch against everything in America--except
you. Let me go down and tell the Captain to take his spin alone."

"No, no," she sharply said. "I keep my word. I said I'd be back in a few
minutes, and I'm going."

He sighed resignedly. "Very well; but you'll let me come to see you?"

"Why, cert! Come to dinner any day. We don't browse around much outside
the hotel. We're mostly always feeding at six."

"I'll come, and you must not fail to let me show you my pictures."

"Sure thing! I want to buy one to take home with me."

He assumed great candor. "I won't say that your ability to buy one of my
pictures is not of interest to me, for it is; but quite aside from that,
there is something in you that appeals to me. You make me think better
of the West--of America. I feel that you will find something in my
pictures which the critics miss." Then, with mournful abruptness, he
added: "No doubt Joe told you of my unhappy marriage--"

"No, he didn't."

"My wife cares nothing for my work. She takes no interest in anything
but the frippery side of life. That's what appeals to me in you--you are
so aspiring. I feel that you have such wonderful possibilities. You
would spur a man to big things."

They were both standing as if he had forgotten where he was, and she,
embarrassed but fascinated by his words, and especially held by his
voice, dared not make a motion till he released her. He looked round
him. "I