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 in which they dealt only in terms of beauty, the other in terms of money.

"You are too modest. And, although you are so clever, if you don't mind my saying so, you are also rather foolish in some ways—at least that's my opinion."

William frankly admitted the impeachment.

"Well, now," said June, a cool and steady eye upon him, "suppose you tell me where you think your foolishness lies?"

"Why, I was foolish enough to think that patch"—the Simpleton pressed the finger of an artist upon the patch—"was really and truly a windmill. But, of course, it's nothing of the kind."

"I'm not speaking of windmills now," said June severely. "I'm speaking of things much more important."

"Oh, but a windmill can be very important. Have you ever really seen a windmill?"

"Yes, of course, I have."

The Sawney asked where.

June had seen a windmill in Lincolnshire.

"Lincolnshire! Oh, but you should see the one in the National Gallery."

"The one in the where?" said June, with a frown.

Of a sudden his voice took its delicious fall. The rare smile, which lit his face, was for June an enchantment: "It's a Hobbema."

"A what!—emma!"

"A Hobbema. On Saturdays the shop closes at one, so that I could take you to see it, if you'd care to. I should like you so much to see it—that's if it interests