“He hasn’t really parted with them. He comes down here constantly, and has a good time over them. It was partly his scheme to arrange them this way.” “And are the paintings his, too, Peter?” Peter could have hugged her for the way she said Peter. “No,” he managed to remark. “I bought some of them, and Miss De Voe and Lispenard Ogden the others. People tell me I spoil them by the flat framing, and the plain, broad gold mats. But it doesn’t spoil them to me. I think the mixture of gold mats and white mats breaks the monotony. And the variation just neutralizes the monotone which the rest of the room has. But of course that is my personal equation.” “Then this room is the real taste of the ‘plain man,’ eh?” inquired Watts. “Really, papa, it is plain. Just as simple as can be.” “Simple! Yes, sweet simplicity! Three-thousand-dollar-etching simplicity! Millet simplicity! Oh, yes. Peter’s a simple old dog.” “No, but the woodwork and the furniture. Isn’t this an enticing chair? I must try it.” And Leonore almost dissolved from view in its depths. Peter has that chair still. He would probably knock the man down who offered to buy it. It occurred to Peter that since Leonore was so extremely near the ground, and was leaning back so far, that she could hardly help but be looking up. So he went and stood in front of the fireplace, and looked down at her. He pretended that his hands were cold. Watts perhaps was right. Peter was not as simple as people thought. It seemed to Peter that he had never had so much to see, all at once, in his life. There were the occasional glimpses of the eyes (for Leonore, in spite of her position, did manage to cover the larger part of them) not one of which must be missed. Then there was her mouth. That would have been very restful to the eye; if it hadn’t been for the distracting chin below it. Then there were the little feet, just sticking out from underneath the tailor-made gown, making Peter think of Herrick’s famous lines. Finally there were those two hands! Leonore was very deliberately taking off her gloves. Peter had not seen those hands ungloved yet, and waited almost breathlessly for the unveiling. He decided that he must watch and shake hands at parting before Leonore put those gloves on again. “I say,” said Watts, “how did you ever manage to get such a place here?” “I was a tenant for a good many years of the insurance company that owns the building, and when it came to rebuild, it had the architect fit this floor for me just as I wished it. So I put our law-offices in front and arranged my other rooms along the side street. Would you like to see them?” Peter asked this last question very obviously of Leonore. “Very much.” So they passed through the other door, to a little square hall, lighted by a skylight, with a stairway going up to the roof.