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 return it to me, so that I may offer it to him, as a token of my love. No one could have had a better or kinder master. I owe everything to him." Suddenly, however, the young man was aware of her dismay. "I do hope you will not mind too much," he said, anxiously. "If you will allow me, I will give you something else."

June averted her eyes. "You gave me this. And you can't believe how much it means to me."

"Yes, I know you have a great feeling for it. To part with it will hurt you, I can see that. But please think of the dear old master's disappointment if he doesn't get it."

"He merely wants it to sell again."

"You are unjust to yourself, Miss June, in thinking so. Money does not enter into your feeling about this beautiful thing; it doesn't enter into mine. Why should it enter into the master's, whose love of art is so intense?"

"Because his love of money is intenser. It's his ruling passion. Where are your eyes that they can't see a thing as plain as that?"

She must be as gentle as she could with this absurd fellow, yet she feared that such words must cause a wound. And the wound was wilfully dealt. It was so important that he should be made to see the whole thing as really and truly it was. But her hope was slight that he would ever be brought to do so.

"I beg you," he said, almost with passion, "to let me have it back, so that I may give it to the dear old master."

"It is madness," said June bitterly. "He has no true feeling for the picture at all."