'One of those abominable flashes of conscience that have so much to answer for!' said Manisty, throwing up his hand in annoyance.--'If she had come to us in Rome, one could have provided for her. But here in this solitude--just at the most critical moment of one's work--and it's all very well--but one can't treat a young lady, when she is actually in one's house, as if she were the tongs!' He stood beside the window, with his hands on his sides, moodily looking out. Thus strongly defined against the sunset light, he would have impressed himself on a stranger as a man no longer in his first youth, extraordinarily handsome so far as the head was concerned, but of a somewhat irregular and stunted figure; stunted, however, only in comparison with what it had to carry; for in fact he was of about middle height. But the head, face and shoulders were all remarkably large and powerful; the colouring--curly black hair, grey eyes, dark complexion--singularly vivid; and the lines of the brow, the long nose, the energetic mouth, in their mingled force and perfection, had made the stimulus of many an artist before now. For Edward Manisty was one of those men of note whose portraits the world likes to paint: and this 'Olympian head' of his was well known in many a French and English studio, through a fine drawing of it made by Legros when Manisty was still a youth at Oxford. 'Begun by David--and finished by Rembrandt': so a young French painter had once described Edward Manisty. The final effect of this discord, however, was an effect of power--of personality--of something that claimed and held attention. So at least it was described by Manisty's friends. Manisty's enemies, of whom the world contained no small number, had other words for it. But women in general took the more complimentary view. The two women now in his company were clearly much affected by the force--wilfulness--extravagance--for one might call it by any of these names--that breathed from the man before them. Miss Manisty, his aunt, followed his movements with her small blinking eyes, timidly uneasy, but yet visibly conscious all the time that she had done nothing that any reasonable man could rationally complain of; while in the manner towards him of his widowed cousin Mrs. Burgoyne, in the few words of banter or remonstrance that she threw him on the subject of his aunt's expected visitor, there was an indulgence, a deference even, that his irritation scarcely deserved. 'At least, give me some account of this girl'--he said, breaking in upon his aunt's explanations. 'I have really not given her a thought--and--good heavens!--she will be here, you say, in half an hour. Is she young--stupid--pretty? Has she any experience--any conversation?'