“That's a sneer,” said Christian; “I didn't think you would have sneered!”
“It is true. What is the use of pretending that it isn't?”
“It may be true, but it is finer not to say it!”
“By Heavens!” said Harz, striking one hand into the other, “if more truth were spoken there would not be so many shams.”
Christian looked down at him from her seat on the stile.
“You are right all the same, Fraulein Christian,” he added suddenly; “that's a very little business. Work is what matters, and trying to see the beauty in the world.”
Christian's face changed. She understood, well enough, this craving after beauty. Slipping down from the stile, she drew a slow deep breath.
“Yes!” she said. Neither spoke for some time, then Harz said shyly:
“If you and Fraulein Greta would ever like to come and see my studio, I should be so happy. I would try and clean it up for you!”
“I should like to come. I could learn something. I want to learn.”