x asked cruelly: "What made you cry?"

She touched her portfolio. "There," she said, "that is the reason. My
last fortnight's work. I draw at Julian's, and I had a fearful criticism
this morning, most discouraging. I am here on my own." She stopped and
said rather faintly: "Why should I tell you?"

"We drank just now to the reason why you should."

"That's true," she laughed. "Well, then, this is my last week in Paris.
I will have to go back to England and drop painting, unless they tell me
that I am sure to have a career and that it is worth while."

A career! She was a soft, sweet, tender little creature in spite of her
good comradeship and the brave little tilt to her hat, and she was fit
for a home nest, and no more fit to battle with the storm of a career
than a young bird with a tempest.

"Let me see your portfolio, will you?"

"First," she said practically, "eat your steak and your potatoes."
Touching her eyes, she added: "I thought of what Goethe said as I cried
here--'Wer nie sein Brot mit Thraenen ass'--only it's not the first
bread and tears that have gone together in this room, I expect."

"No," returned Fairfax, "I reckon not, and you are lucky to have the
bread, Mademoiselle. Some have only tears."

"I know," she returned softly, "and I have been most awfully lucky so
far."

When they had finished he made the man clear away the things, and she
spread out the contents of her portfolio before him, watching his face,
as he felt, for every expression. He handled thoughtfully the bits of
card-board and paper, seeing on them only the evidence of a mediocre
talent, a great deal of feeling, and the indications of a sensitive
nature. One by one he looked at them and turned them over, and put them
back and tied up the green portfolio by its black tapes. Then he looked
at her, saw how white her little face had grown, how big and blue her
eyes were, how childlike and inadequate she seemed to life.

"You need not speak," she faltered. "You were going to say I'm no good.
I don't want to hear you say it."

Impulsively, he put out his strong hands and took hers that fluttered at
her coat.

"Why should you care for what I say? You have your masters and your
chiefs."

"Yes," she nodded, "and they have been awfully encouraging, all of them,
until to-day."

Fairfax looked at her earnestly. "You must not mind if you feel that you
have got it in you. Don't seek to hear others' opinions, just go boldly,
courage