en
mean it as a qualification of my tribute; it was only genuine concern
for you."

"How stupid of me!" she exclaimed. "I ought to have felt that at once."

There was another spell of silence; he intensely absorbed in his brush,
she obviously considering.

"I am not really like that," she said at last.

He stood away from the canvas, glanced critically at certain points,
levelled his mahl-stick at her, took up a rag, and wiped a bit out.
"Like what?" he asked.

"Like women."

"But you are. You see, it is sticking in your mind." He smiled wickedly.

"You fight too hard," she pleaded.

"I'm sorry," he said remorsefully. "I shall not do it again."

"Oh, I'm not a bit hurt," she protested. "I was only thinking the point
over."

"I want to hear what you were thinking." His smile and tone were
meaningly affectionate, as if they would add "little child."

"I meant that I should never really be hurt by qualifications. I have
never been used to having nice things said to me. I certainly do not
deserve tributes, but I know I deserve all possible qualifications."

"Oh, if you please! I'll not allow even Miss Robinson to say such
slanderous things about so valued a friend of mine."

"So I have been slandering a friend of yours! I'm so sorry. Forgive me."

"I suppose I must--though I find it hard--very hard."

"I do believe you are paying me a tribute," she laughed. "Now for the
qualifications. You shall see how stoical I am."

"Qualifications--none!" He threw down his brushes and palette, as if to
emphasise the declaration. "I'm tired first," he sang out gaily. "Let
us rest."

"There!" she exclaimed. "What a triumph for me!"

"But you say it so gently that it is a pleasure to concede you the
victory. You are an ideal foe."

"Oh, if you please, I don't want to be a foe.... How cold it is!" She
stooped and held her hands again to the fire.

"No, child," he said gently, "of course we aren't foes. We are very good
friends indeed, aren't we?" He held out his hand, as if to clench the
understanding, so clearly and warmly acknowledged.

She was all a-flutter again, though, as was her habit, she covered it up
with a smile. "Very good friends!" she returned, with conviction, and
she put her hand in his, and let it linger there. "I have always lived
reserved and to myself," she added thoughtfully. "You may think it
strange, but I have never had a friend before--not even a woman friend."

"I can well understand you