"I do not want it. I do not belong here. I have no part, no sympathy with it," she said rebelliously. "I hate it, this land, where you all strive for money, not for art, and where fame is measured out with ingots for weights." "When I was in Venice," said Graham, "there was with me a fellow artist, a student like myself. We took our first trip through the Grand Canal together. I remember his first criticism. Shall I tell it to you? It was this: ’How terrible to see cabbage leaves floating on the Grand Canal!’ It was the feature which first struck him. For years after he lived in the wonderful city, loving it better, painting it more truly, day by day. He has long since forgotten the cabbage leaves which at first annoyed his nice English taste. Believe me, you will find, above and beneath the things which now jar and shock your nerves, much that is grand in this country which you will one day be proud to call your own." "Never, never!" she cried impetuously. At this moment voices sounded in the hall, and several persons entered the library. These were Barbara and her mother, Hal Deering, and a short gentleman with a very large round head, on which the coarse black hair, closely cropped, stood straight in air, like the hobbed mane of a Mexican pony. His piercing black eyes were set too close to the well-shaped aquiline nose; and the black mustache curled fiercely from the upper lip, revealing a good mouth set with strong white teeth. His forehead was deeply seared with lines which betokened frequent frowns, but the wrinkles about the mouth looked as if it might be in the habit of laughing constantly. A good olive complexion made the face not ill-looking, while the small, well-modelled hands and feet redeemed the rather unwieldy little body from absolute ugliness. On seeing Graham, the new-comer frowned fiercely and twisted his mustache upward in an irritated manner. When the artist stepped forward so that the light from the lamp fell on his face, the irate expression died from the countenance of the little gentleman; and, with a fat, good-natured laugh, he shook him warmly by the hand, turning his mustachios downward so that they resembled drooping commas. This act altered the expression of his countenance to an extraordinary degree, half its ferocity having disappeared with the tight upward twist of the mustache.