“ But my father has complained to you,” said Mademoiselle Noémie.
“ He says you are a coquette.”
“ He shouldn’t go about saying such things to gentlemen! But you don’t believe it?”
“ No,” said Newman gravely, “I don’t believe it.”
She looked at him again, gave a shrug and a smile, and then pointed to a small Italian picture, a Marriage of St. Catherine. “How should you like that?” she asked.
“ It doesn’t please me,” said Newman. “The young lady in the yellow dress is not pretty.”
“ Ah, you are a great connoisseur,” murmured Mademoiselle Noémie.
“ In pictures? Oh, no; I know very little about them.”
“ In pretty women, then.”
“ In that I am hardly better.”
“ What do you say to that, then?” the young girl asked, indicating a superb Italian portrait of a lady. “I will do it
