"It wasn't flattering at all.—In fact it wasn't a portrait."
"A caricature?"
"But you don't mind what people say of you, do you?"
"You are trying to frighten me."
"No, really," she said with pretty earnestness; "it's only that he has always talked about you as his best friend, and I imagined you would be like him."
Temple's uneasy wonderings about Betty's trouble, her acquaintance with Vernon, the meaning of her visit to him, were pushed to the back of his mind.
"I wish I were like him," said he,—"at any rate, in his paintings."
"At any rate—yes. But one can't have everything, you know. You have qualities which he hasn't—qualities that you wouldn't exchange for any qualities of his."
"That wasn't what I meant; I—the fact is, I like old Vernon, but I can't understand him."
"That philosophy of life eludes you still? Now, I understand him, but I don't always like him—not all of him."