"Yes, the scenery in Brittany is most charming; I did some good work there. The people are so primitive and delightful too."
The waiter withdrew, and Betty said:
"How do you mean—he didn't lie?"
"The fact is," said Vernon, "he—he did not understand our friendship in the least. I imagine friendship was not invented when he was young. It's a tiresome subject, Miss Desmond; let's drop it—shall we?"
"If you like," said she, chilly as December.
"Oh, well then, just let me say it was done for your sake, Miss Desmond. He had no idea that two people should have any interests in common except—except matters of the heart, and the shortest way to convince him was to tell him that my heart was elsewhere. I don't like lies, but there are some people who insist on lies—nothing else will convince them of the truth. Here comes some abhorrent preparation of rice. How goes it with art?"
"I have been working very hard," she said, "but every day I seem to know less and less."
"Oh, that's all right! It's only that every day one knows more and more—of how little one does know. You'll have to pass many milestones before you pass out of that state. Do they always feed you like this here?"
"Some days it's custard," said Betty, "but we've only been here a week."
"We're friends again now, aren't we?" he questioned suddenly.