"I am," she replied; "it is a little study." Her voice shook with emotion. "I thought so," he said again; "may I congratulate you?" He took up the drawing, looked at it with that half-quizzical, half-earnest glance, which puzzled not only Miss Armstrong and her friends but also myself, and then put it quietly back on the mantelpiece. "If you leave it there, it will get dusty and be spoiled," he said. "Is it for sale?" he continued, as if it were an after-thought. "Oh no, sir," cried Miss Armstrong, half abashed and delighted. "It is not worth any money--at least I fear it is not." "But I am so glad you like it, Mr. Randolph," said Mrs. Armstrong, now pushing vigorously to the front; "I always did say that Marion had the h'artist's soul. It shines out of her eyes, at least I am proud to think so; and Marion, my dear, if the good gentleman would _like_ the little sketch, I am sure you would be pleased to give it to him." "But I could not think of depriving Miss Armstrong of her drawing," said Mr. Randolph, immediately putting on his coldest manner. He crossed the room and seated himself near mother. "There now, ma, you have offended him," said Marion, nearly crying with vexation. CHAPTER X HER GRACE OF WILMOT On a certain morning, between twelve and one o'clock, the inhabitants of Graham Square must have felt some slight astonishment as a carriage and pair of horses dashed up to No. 17. On the panels of the carriage were seen the coronet, with the eight strawberries, which denotes the ducal rank. The coachman and footman were also in the well-known livery of the Duke of Wilmot. One of the servants got down, rang the bell, and a moment later the Duchess swept gracefully into the drawing-room, where mother and I happened to be alone. She came up to us with both hands outstretched. "My dears," she said, glancing round, "are they all out?" "I am so glad to see you, Victoria," replied mother; "but whom do you mean? Sit down, won't you?" The Duchess sank into the nearest chair. She really looked quite nervous. "Are the boarders out?" she said again; "I could not encounter them. I considered the whole question, and thought that at this hour they would, in all probability, be shopping or diverting themselves in some way. Ah, Westenra, let me look at you." "But do you really want to look at me, Duchess?" I asked somewhat audaciously. "I see you have lost none of your spirit," said the Duchess, and she patted me playfully with a large fan which she wore at her side. "There, sit down in that little chair opposite, and tell me all about everything. How is this--this curious concern going?" "You can see for yourself," I answered; "this room is not exactly an attic, is it?" "No, it is a very nice reception-room," said the Duchess, glancing approvingly around her. "It has, my dear Mary--forgive me for the remark--a little of the Mayfair look; a large room, too, nearly as large as our rooms in Grosvenor Place."