cupied by art. There's not much left
over, you see."

"I don't believe it at all," she exclaimed.

"You don't, eh?" cried Hollanden scornfully. "Well, let me tell you,
young woman, there is a great deal of truth in it. Now, there's
Hawker--as good a fellow as ever lived, too, in a way, and yet he's an
artist. Why, look how he treats--look how he treats that poor setter
dog!"

"Why, he's as kind to him as he can be," she declared.

"And I tell you he is not!" cried Hollanden.

"He is, Hollie. You--you are unspeakable when you get in these moods."

"There--that's just you in an argument. I'm not in a mood at all. Now,
look--the dog loves him with simple, unquestioning devotion that fairly
brings tears to one's eyes----"

"Yes," she said.

"And he--why, he's as cold and stern----"

"He isn't. He isn't, Holly. You are awf'ly unfair."

"No, I'm not. I am simply a liberal observer. And Hawker, with his
people, too," he went on darkly; "you can't tell--you don't know
anything about it--but I tell you that what I have seen proves my
assertion that the artistic mind has no space left for the human
affections. And as for the dog----"

"I thought you were his friend, Hollie?"

"Whose?"

"No, not the dog's. And yet you--really, Hollie, there is something
unnatural in you. You are so stupidly keen in looking at people that you
do not possess common loyalty to your friends. It is because you are a
writer, I suppose. That has to explain so many things. Some of your
traits are very disagreeable."

"There! there!" plaintively cried Hollanden. "This is only about the
treatment of a dog, mind you. Goodness, what an oration!"

"It wasn't about the treatment of a dog. It was about your treatment of
your friends."

"Well," he said sagely, "it only goes to show that there is nothing
impersonal in the mind of a woman. I undertook to discuss broadly----

"Oh, Hollie!"

"At any rate, it was rather below you to do such scoffing at me."

"Well, I didn't mean--not all of it, Hollie."

"Well, I didn't mean what I said about the dog and all that, either."

"You didn't?" She turned toward him, large-eyed.

"No. Not a single word of it."

"Well, what did you say it for, then?" she demanded indignantly.

"I said it," answered Hollanden placidly, "just to tease you." He looked
abstractedly up to the trees.

Presently she said slowly, "Just to tease me?"

At this time Hollanden wore an unmistakable air of having a desire