Neæra heard the leisurely step of the knight behind her, but did not turn until he spoke and called her attention to his presence. Then her gaze rested on the visitor, whose person was clothed in its accustomed perfection of style and taste, even to a fold, and whose white and carefully‐kept hands glittered with gems. Customers of rank and position were not altogether new to her, since Masthlion had a certain reputation for the character of his work, so that she was in no wise disconcerted on account of the superior grade of the comer; but there was that in the expression of his closely‐set, glistening, black eyes and supercilious lips, which affected her uncomfortably. He, moreover, treated her to a leisurely survey, which might have passed without remark, had its object been the merits of a horse or dog, but which the beautiful girl resented inwardly for its impertinent freedom and boldness. The half nodding, condescending approval which plainly showed on his face, roused her indignation even more, and, with a flush on her cheeks, she drew up her tall frame, and returned him a glance of high displeasure. Afer faintly smiled, evidently amused thereat. He curled his thin lips, and spoke again with a faint drawl in his tone, whilst Cestus, above at his post, ground his teeth in suppressed rage. ‘This is the shop of Masthlion the potter?’ ‘It is!’ replied Neæra, briefly and coldly. Afer scanned her over and smiled again—the girl was certainly favoured with good looks, but, at the same time, it was amusing to observe to what great extent the knowledge of the fact had increased her importance in her own eyes. ‘I have heard that he is skilful in his work, and I came to see for myself; these are his handiwork, I presume?’ He nodded to the ware with which the shelves were filled, and his query was answered in the affirmative. ‘I will look at them. You are his daughter; is it not so?’ ‘I am,’ replied Neæra, and resolving to be rid of the company of this individual, whose impertinence and patronising air were so irritating, she added that her father should attend to his wants himself, and she accordingly turned to go to the workshop and fetch him. ‘No! no!’ exclaimed Afer, detaining her with his hand, and giving a slight laugh, ‘I have no consuming desire to make your worthy father’s acquaintance; and, besides, there is no occasion to take him from his work. He is industrious, and would not like it, and, moreover, knows very well that the care of his customers is in better hands as it is. I prefer—and who would not—to have your own fair hands submit these specimens for my approval, and your own fair lips to sound their praises.’ ‘Will you please to look for yourself, noble sir, and see whether there be anything suitable?’ answered Neæra, curtly and loftily. ‘Naturally,’ he replied, with a cold smile, ‘but am I not to have your aid in my selection?’ ‘I cannot perceive how I can be of help; you know your own taste better than I.’