“But my father has complained to you,” said Mademoiselle Noémie.
“He says you are a coquette.”
“He shouldn’t go about saying such things to gentlemen! But you don’t believe it?”
“No,” said Newman gravely, “I don’t believe it.”
She looked at him again, gave a shrug and a smile, and then pointed to a small Italian picture, a Marriage of St. Catherine. “How should you like that?” she asked.
“It doesn’t please me,” said Newman. “The young lady in the yellow dress is not pretty.”
“Ah, you are a great connoisseur,” murmured Mademoiselle Noémie.
“In pictures? Oh, no; I know very little about them.”
“In pretty women, then.”
“In that I am hardly better.”