“When Hammerdyke is fighting he is all eyes and teeth,” was a saying that had come to Mrs. Farquharson's ears; she had repeated it long since to Clytie, who remembered it now as she beheld this hero of Caroline's for the first time. He was not fighting now, but laughing, talking with a certain daring charm of manner, almost boyish sometimes. The time passed quickly. When the little clock in the corner struck six Clytie rose in some confusion. She had promised to spend the evening with Winifred and the children. She took her leave hurriedly. A little later she was sitting in the Marchpanes' drawing-room, with the children clinging around her, a block of paper and a pencil, as usual, in her hand. And led away by a sudden fancy she drew pictures for them of the wild deeds that she had heard tell of Thornton Hammerdyke. This was quite a novelty to the children, who were accustomed to street arabs and grotesque caricatures. They were delighted, hung on her lap, demanded more pictures of soldiers and camels and a great man in a helmet killing savages. To satisfy them she had to draw extensively upon her imagination, sometimes upon theirs. Winifred's suggestions were scouted as being too mild. The final picture was a great triumph. It represented the same man in the helmet dancing upon a struggling heap of savages, transfixing one with a spear held in his left hand, whilst with a sword in his right he clove another in twain. Nothing is so fascinating to children as the grotesquely horrible; Clytie herself was carried away by their enthusiasm. Meanwhile the subject of this picture history had remained at Harley Street for a short time after Clytie's departure. “So that is the Clytie you used to write to me about in Africa?” he said. “No wonder you like having such a splendid thing about the place, as a kind of intermittent fixture.” “I am so glad you like her,” said Caroline. “I didn't say I liked her. I don't give myself away so soon as that. But, by Jove! I liked looking at her. Where is she generally to be found?” “Either here or, if you make yourself very civil to her, she may let you go round to her studio--on her day, you know.” “Oh, she runs a day, does she? These young women are getting very emancipated.” “They are,” said George Farquharson, lighting his pipe. “So much the better.” “I don't know so much about that,” replied Hammerdyke. “If they are too emancipated, they get an idea that their own way is everything in the world, and grow devilish hard in the mouth when the time comes for them to be pulled up.” “What a contradictory creature!” cried Caroline. “Only yesterday you were railing at the well brought up drawing-room young ladies you were having to take in to dinner.”