“He’s made some very pretty ones about you.”

“Like the one you just quoted?”

“No, not exactly.  He admires you ever so much.  He says” She stopped, teasingly.

“What?”

“He says you could be almost anything you wished, if you didn’t wish to be everything.”

“That sounds more like the school of Wetmore.  That’s what you say, Alma.  Well, if there were something you wished me to be, I could be it.”

“We might adapt Kingsley:  ’Be good, sweet man, and let who will be clever.’” He could not help laughing.  She went on:  “I always thought that was the most patronizing and exasperating thing ever addressed to a human girl; and we’ve had to stand a good deal in our time.  I should like to have it applied to the other ‘sect’ a while.  As if any girl that was a girl would be good if she had the remotest chance of being clever.”

“Then you wouldn’t wish me to be good?” Beaton asked.

“Not if you were a girl.”

“You want to shock me.  Well, I suppose I deserve it.  But if I were one-tenth part as good as you are, Alma, I should have a lighter heart than I have now.  I know that I’m fickle, but I’m not false, as you think I am.”

“Who said I thought you were false?”

“No one,” said Beaton.  “It isn’t necessary, when you look it—­live it.”

“Oh, dear!  I didn’t know I devoted my whole time to the subject.”

“I know I’m despicable.  I could tell you something—­the history of this day, even—­that would make you despise me.”  Beaton had in mind his purchase of the overcoat, which Alma was getting in so effectively, with the money he ought to have sent his father.  “But,” he went on, darkly, with a sense that what he was that moment suffering for his selfishness must somehow be a kind of atonement, which would finally leave him to the guiltless enjoyment of the overcoat, “you wouldn’t believe the depths of baseness I could descend to.”

“I would try,” said Alma, rapidly shading the collar, “if you’d give me some hint.”

Beaton had a sudden wish to pour out his remorse to her, but he was afraid of her laughing at him.  He said to himself that this was a very wholesome fear, and that if he could always have her at hand he should not make a fool of himself so often.  A man conceives of such an office as the very noblest for a woman; he worships her for it if he is magnanimous.  But Beaton was silent, and Alma put back her head for the right distance on her sketch.  “Mr. Fulkerson thinks you are the sublimest of human beings for advising him to get Colonel Woodburn to interview Mr. Dryfoos about Lindau.  What have you ever done with your Judas?”

“I haven’t done anything with it.  Nadel thought he would take hold of it at one time, but he dropped it again.  After all, I don’t suppose it could be popularized.  Fulkerson wanted to offer it as a premium to subscribers for ‘Every Other Week,’ but I sat down on that.”