"
"One could be more patient if it were being made for oneself," said
M. Lichinsky. "But at least, Fraeulein, your sister does not quarrel
with every one. You must be grateful for that mercy!"
Even as he spoke, a stout lady thrust herself into the reading-room.
She looked very hot and excited. She was M. Lichinsky's mother. She
spoke, with a whirlwind of Polish words. It is sometimes difficult to
know when these people are angry and when they are pleased. But there
was no mistake about Mme. Lichinsky. She was always angry. Her son rose
from the sofa and followed her to the door. Then he turned round to his
confederates, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Another quarrel!" he said hopelessly.
CHAPTER XV.
WHICH CONTAINS NOTHING.
"YOU may have talent for other things," Robert Allitsen said one day to
Bernardine, "but you certainly have no talent for photography. You have
not made the slightest progress."
"I don't at all agree with you," Bernardine answered rather peevishly.
"I think I am getting on very well."
"You are no judge," he said. "To begin with, you cannot focus properly.
You have a crooked eye. I have told you that several times!"
"You certainly have," she put in.
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