Arrived within those walls, Mr. Potts, temporarily oblivious of the presence of a lady, became himself again. The mingled smell of turpentine and tobacco, the sight of the pictures on the easels, and Of Geoff's pipe-rack on the wall, a general air of carelessness and discomfort, all came gratefully to Mr. Potts who opened his chest, spread out his arms, shook himself as does a dog just emerged from the water--probably in his case to get rid of any clinging vestige of respectability--and said in a very hungry tone: "Now, Geoff, let's have a smoke, old boy." "You might as well wait until you knew whether Mrs. Ludlow made any objection, Charley," said Bowker, in a low tone. "I beg Mrs. Ludlow's pardon," said Potts, scarlet all over; "I had no notion that she--" "Pray don't apologise, Mr. Potts; I am thoroughly accustomed to smoke; have been for--" "Yes, of course; ever since you married Geoff you have been thoroughly smoke-dried," interrupted Bowker, at whom Margaret shot a short quick glance, half of interrogation, half of gratitude. They said no more on the smoke subject just then, but proceeded to a thorough examination of the picture which Charley Potts pronounced "regularly stunning," and which Mr. Bowker criticised in a much less explosive manner. He praised the drawing, the painting, the general arrangement; he allowed that Geoffrey was doing every thing requisite to obtain for himself name, fame, and wealth in the present day; but he very much doubted whether that was all that was needed. With the French judge he would very much have doubted the necessity of living, if to live implied the abnegation of the first grand principles of art, its humanising and elevated influence. Bowker saw no trace of these in the undeniable cleverness of the Brighton Esplanade; and though he was by no means sparing of his praise, his lack of enthusiasm, as compared with the full-flavoured ecstasy of Charley Potts, struck upon Margaret's ear. Shortly afterwards, while Geoffrey and Potts were deep in a discussion on colour, she turned to Mr. Bowker, and said abruptly: "You are not satisfied with Geoffrey's picture?" He smiled somewhat grimly as he said, "Satisfied is a very strong word, Mrs. Ludlow. There are some of us in the world who have sufficient good sense not to be satisfied with what we do ourselves--" "That's true, Heaven knows," she interrupted involuntarily. "And are consequently not particularly likely to be content with what's done by other people. I think Geoff's picture good, very good of its sort; but I don't--I candidly confess--like its sort. He is a man full of appreciation of nature, character, and sentiment; a min who, in the expression of his own art, is as capable of rendering poetic feeling as--By Jove, now why didn't he think of that subject that Charley Potts has got under weigh just now? That would have suited Geoff exactly." "What is it?"