'I don't see why you shouldn't come to Holland with me!'
He did not know what to think; he knew she had been reading the Symposium.
'After all,' she said, 'there's no reason why one shouldn't go away with a man as well as with a woman.'
His French friends would have suggested that there were many reasons why one should go away with a woman rather than a man; but, like his companion, Ferdinand looked at it in the light of pure friendship.
'When one comes to think of it, I really don't see why we shouldn't. And the mere fact of staying at the same hotel can make no difference to either of us. We shall both have our work—you your painting, and I my play.'
As they considered it, the idea was distinctly pleasing; they wondered that it had not occurred to them before. Sauntering homewards, they discussed the details, and in half an hour had decided on the plan of their journey, the date and the train.
Next day Valentia went to say good-bye to the old French painter whom all the American girls called Popper. She found him in a capacious dressing-gown, smoking cigarettes.
'Well, my dear,' he said, 'what news?'
'I'm going to Holland to paint windmills.'
'A very laudable ambition. With your mother?'