apparent, a touch of impressionism, some trick of colour. American art, as represented here, betrayed an eclecticism, a lack of standard, of conviction. Skill in drawing was less important than a certain dash in laying on colour and in making bold outlines.
All day, people streamed up the steps and through the broad doors of the club-house. Carriages blocked the street. Elderly ladies from Riverside Bank panted up the steps. Art students from the West End scrutinized, praised, and blamed. Amateur critics looked knowingly through half-shut eyes, and spoke in disparagement, fearful of approving something that another might condemn.
Helen came very early, in her little worn jacket and the old bonnet. Howard Stanton accompanied her. They climbed the steps in eager excitement, and pushed almost rudely through the crowd to find the picture.
"Oh!" said Howard with a sigh of satisfaction. "That's great!"
