“You must wait and see for yourself,” he replied, and led the way through the conservatory to the room of which he had spoken. They found the easel covered with a cloth. This he drew aside. “It is my present to you,” he said, referring to the picture he had revealed, “to be hung in your own room.” “Oh, Godfrey, how good of you! What a splendid likeness!” It was, in fact, a portrait of himself upon which he had been working hard ever since his engagement had been announced. He had intended it as a surprise, and in the pleasure he gave her, he felt that he had been amply repaid for the labour it had cost him. “I shall treasure it all my life long,” she said, and rewarded him in a manner that would have turned many folks green with envy. “And now,” she said, when she had gazed her full upon it, “I want you to show me a photograph of your friend, Mr. Fensden, if you have one. Remember I have no idea what he is like.” “That can very easily be remedied,” he said. “I have a photo which was taken in Rome, and a small portrait that I painted myself.” So saying, he crossed the room to his writing-table, and, having opened a drawer, took from it a packet of cabinet photographs. They were, for the most part, likenesses of old friends, and when he had selected one of Victor from the number, he placed it before her. “So that is Mr. Fensden?” she said, seating herself in what he called his business chair. For some moments she studied it attentively. Then she replaced it on the writing-table. “Well, now that you have seen the portrait, what do you think of him?” Godfrey asked, as he turned over some canvases on the other side of the room. “I scarcely know what to say,” she replied, slowly. “It is a refined face, a clever one, if you like; but, if I may be allowed to say what I think, there is something in it, I can not tell what, that I do not care about. I fancy the eyes are set a little too close together.” Then she added more quickly: “I hope I have not offended you, dear. I should not have spoken so candidly.” “Why shouldn’t you?” he inquired. “Perhaps, now you speak of it, the eyes are a little too close together. But you must wait until you have seen the man himself before you judge him. I assure you he can be a charming companion.” “I gathered as much from his photograph,” she answered, taking it up and looking at it again, “At what time does he arrive to-day?” “In time for afternoon tea,” said Godfrey. “I am going to drive in to meet him.”