“Never mind who said it,” retorted the girl. “It’s true anyway. It wasn’t meant to hurt me. It didn’t hurt me. He is going to cure me; Dr. Strong is.”
“Cure you, Louise? Of what?”
“Of ugliness. Of hideousness. Of being a mess.”
“But, my dear,” said the older woman softly, “you mustn’t take it to heart so, the idle word of some one who doesn’t know you at all.”
“You can’t understand,” retorted the other passionately. “You’ve always been pretty!”
“A compliment straight from the heart,” murmured the painter.
The color came into Mrs. Clyde’s smooth cheek again. “What have you promised her, Dr. Strong?” she asked.
“Nothing. I have simply followed Mr. Taylor’s lead. His is the artist eye that can see beauty beneath disguises. He has told Miss Ennis that she was meant to be a beautiful woman. I have told her that she can be what she was meant to be if she wills, and wills hard enough.”
“And you will take charge of her case?” asked Mrs. Clyde.
“That, of course, depends upon you and Mr. Clyde. If you will include Miss Ennis in the family, my responsibilities will automatically extend to her.”