“I think you do,” she said solemnly. “Well, I never did till lately, when an experience of my own made me begin to think there was something in it.” “What experience was that?” asked Gerard, feeling that he was drawing near to a similar story to his own. But Lady Jennings did not immediately answer. She raised the gold-rimmed double-eyeglass which she wore dangling in front of her from a long thin gold chain, and looked at a large portrait of Rachel, which stood, framed and draped, on a little table near her. “A singular face! An unmistakable face!” said she, almost under her breath. Gerard was alert and eager to hear more, but Lady Jennings suddenly turned the conversation to another matter-- “And have you had your first brief yet?” she asked. “Yes, but not many of them,” answered Gerard, rather coolly, disappointed at not having heard more of what he wanted to hear. “And do you ever go down to the old place?” “To my uncle’s? Oh yes, I go down every autumn to shoot, and always at Christmas.” “Ask your uncle whether he remembers Dorothy Bellingham, and tell him, if he does, that she has white hair now, but that she loves Norfolk and the old Hall as much as ever.” “I won’t forget.” “And won’t you come and see us sometimes?” went on the old lady, with an engaging smile. “I’m always pleased to see my friends, and I should like Sir Joseph’s grandson to be my friend. I am always at home from four to six, except on Sundays and in August and the early months of the year. I love to have young people about me. And the young people are an attraction to other young people, aren’t they?” she said archly. “More often than not you will find Rachel Davison with me. She’s a splendid secretary and does most of my correspondence.” “Your secretary, is she?” asked Gerard eagerly. “Not actually, but practically,” answered Lady Jennings. “I offered to take her as my secretary when she was bemoaning the fact that she could get no work to do, but the girl was too proud. She caught eagerly at the idea of staying with me, and offered to do all my correspondence, but she refused to accept any salary. Then, luckily, she developed this unsuspected talent for design, and before many weeks were over she was able to send money to her mother, to pay for her sister’s being sent to a first-rate school, and to dress as she ought to dress. It’s astonishingly clever of her, isn’t it?” “Most astonishing,” said Gerard emphatically. Was it fancy? Or did the old lady look at him inquisitively, as if anxious to make out what he really thought? “And I never see her at work, that is the marvel. It’s true she has a little studio where she draws most of her designs, and that she does the rest down at Brighton, when she is staying with her mother. But it’s wonderful to me that she can find time for it, when she is always going about with me or with other friends.” “She is at Brighton now, is she not?” “Yes, she’s been down there for the last three weeks.”