"It seems to me it would be so hard to get the mountains into a portrait of just anybody.

An artist--a great artist, I mean--must make his picture right, mustn't he?
And if his picture was a portrait of some one who wasn't very good, and he made it right; he wouldn't be liked very well, would he?
No, I don't think I would paint portraits--unless I could paint just the people who would want me to make my picture right." Aaron King's face flushed at the words that were spoken so artlessly; and he looked at her keenly.

But the girl was wholly innocent of any purpose other than to express her thoughts.

She did not dream of the force with which her simple words had gone home.
"You love the mountains, too, don't you ?" she asked suddenly.
"Yes," he answered, "I love the mountains.

I am learning to love them more and more.