THE AMERICAN
"Oh, shucks! I'll agree to anything!" cried Newman.
Mr. Babcock buried his head in both hands. At last, looking up, "I don't think you appreciate my position," he observed. "I try to arrive at the truth about everything. And then you go too fast. There are things of which you take too little account. I feel as if I ought to go over all this ground we've traversed again by myself. I'm afraid I have made a great many mistakes."
"Oh, you need n't give so many reasons," said Newman. "You've simply had enough of me. You've all your right to that."
"No, no, I've not had enough of you!" his friend insisted. "It would be very wrong of me to have had enough."
"I give it up!" laughed Newman. "But of course it will never do to go on making mistakes. Go your way, by all means. I shall miss you; but you've seen I make friends very easily. You'll be lonely yourself; but drop me a line when you feel like it, and I'll wait for you anywhere."
"I think I'll go back to Milan. I'm afraid I did n't do justice to Luini."
"Poor old Luini!" said Newman.
"I mean I'm afraid I went too far about him. I don't think he's as true as he at first seems."
"Luini?" Newman exclaimed. "There's something in the look of his genius that's like the face of a beautiful woman. It's as if she were coming straight at you, or standing very close."
His companion frowned and winced. And it must
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