At the sign of approaching tears, Sir William frowned impatiently. “I mean you don’t look—32,” he said diplomatically. She simpered and thanked him for the compliment. He smiled grimly as he said to himself, “She’s over 60 if she’s a day.” “They all tell me I don’t look my age,” she said gushingly. “It’s my artistic soul that keeps me so young and fresh-looking.” They sat down on a bench, glad of the opportunity to cool themselves after their strenuous walk. “Do you know,” she said dreamily, fanning herself, “I am very different from most artistic people.” He looked at her. “Oh my, yes, indeed!” she affirmed convincingly. “I don’t live in the clouds, I am of the earth earthy,” and she gave him another languishing look. “Ye don’t tell me,” he retorted mockingly. “But I love art,” sighed Eppy ecstatically. “When I was young,” she went on reminiscently, “I mean when I was younger,” she corrected herself with a startled look at her silent companion, “I came near having a painting from my own hand hung in the National Gallery.” “You are a clever woman,” he remarked sarcastically. “It was this way,” she explained volubly. “I had painted a lovely marine. I do marines much better than anything else,” with a self-conscious smirk, “and upon showing it to Mr. William Nichol, a dear man, but one who drinks to excess, he promised to mention it to the Lord Mayor. Well, it made me exceedingly nervous, I vow. However, I bought a most lovely frame for it, Nile green in color, with sweet red plush ends.” She cleared her throat affectedly and continued with evident delight. “I do like things to match,” she explained, “and the green was the exact shade of the water. It was simply exquisite.” She clasped her hands together and rolled her eyes heavenward. “And the red ends exactly matched the cow, which was a lovely shade of——” “Cow?” echoed Sir William in amazement. “Did I hear you say cow?” Eppy looked at him pettishly. She didn’t like to be so violently interrupted. “Certainly a cow,” she returned frigidly. “Is there anything strange in a cow?” and she drew herself up with an injured air. “No, there’s nothing strange in a cow when it is by itself,” replied Sir William dryly, “but in a marine, well, it is a little hard on the cow.” “You don’t know what you are saying, Sir William,” flashed Eppy indignantly. “Please don’t interrupt me again. The cow I have reference to was in one corner drinking. I heard Lady Nancy Gordon telling Mrs. McLehose that the cow looked as if it were trying to drink the ocean dry; the idea!” and she clucked her tongue against her teeth in contemptuous scorn. “She’s a cat,” she continued spitefully; “I never could bear her. She was uncommon jealous of me, yes, indeed, but that’s another matter.” Sir William turned crimson, and seemed about to choke, as he tried to smother his laughter. “You were telling me about your marine,” he finally stuttered.