What else do you like about him?"
"I sha'n't tell you. You are prejudiced, like all the rest. He says that
only an artist can understand an artist."
"Meaning, I suppose, that he understands you?"
"Yes; and I believe I understand him. Of course I don't agree with him in
all his ideas. But then, I've been brought up in such a narrow way that I
know I am frightfully conventional. He is awfully advanced, you know. Why
don't you like him, Quin?"
Numerous concrete and very emphatic reasons sprang to Quin's lips. He
would have liked nothing better than to answer her question fully and
finally; but instead he only smiled at her and said:
"Why, I guess the main reason is because you do."
Eleanor looked at him dubiously: "No," she said; "it's something besides
that. The family have probably filled your ears with silly gossip. Mr.
Phipps _was_ wild at one time--he told me all about it. But that's
ancient history; you can take my word for it."
Quin would have taken her word for almost anything when she looked at him
with such star-eyed earnestness, but he was obliged to make an exception
in the present instance.
"He's nothing in my young life," he said indifferently.
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