“Here is the one I like best,” said Laura, standing before the Bougereau.

“Yes?” he queried, observing the picture thoughtfully. “I suppose,” he remarked, “it is because it demands less of you than some others. I see what you mean. It pleases you because it satisfies you so easily. You can grasp it without any effort.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she ventured.

“Bougereau ‘fills a place.’ I know it,” he answered. “But I cannot persuade myself to admire his art.”

“But,” she faltered, “I thought that Bougereau was considered the greatest⁠—one of the greatest⁠—his wonderful flesh tints, the drawing, and colouring.”