"Another quarrel!" he said hopelessly.
CHAPTER XV.
WHICH CONTAINS NOTHING.
"YOU may have talent for other things," Robert Allitsen said one day to Bernardine, "but you certainly have no talent for photography. You have not made the slightest progress."
"I don't at all agree with you," Bernardine answered rather peevishly.
"I think I am getting on very well."
"You are no judge," he said. "To begin with, you cannot focus properly.
You have a crooked eye. I have told you that several times!"
"You certainly have," she put in. "You don't let me forget that."
"Your photograph of that horrid little danseuse whom you like so much," he said, "is simply abominable. She looks like a fury. Well, she may be one for all I know, but in real life she has not the appearance of one."
"I think that is the best photograph I have done," Bernardine said, highly indignant. She could tolerate his uppishness about subjects of which she knew far more than he did; but his masterfulness about a subject of which she really knew nothing was more than she could bear with patience. He had not the tact to see that she was irritated.
"I don't know about it being the best," he said; "unless it is the best specimen of your inexperience. Looked at from that point of view, it does stand first!"