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V.]
THE EUROPEANS.
193
"To me," said Gertrude, "you can say anything."
Felix looked at her, as an artist might, and painted for some time in silence. "Yes, you seem to me different from your father and sister—from most of the people you have lived with," he observed.
"To say that one's self," Gertrude went on, "is like saying—by implication, at least—that one is better. I am not better; I am much worse. But they say themselves that I am different. It makes them unhappy."
"Since you accuse me of concealing my real impressions, I may admit that I think the tendency—among you generally—is to be made unhappy too easily."
