"Lord Malplaquet is dying to hear your theories of life," he said playfully, bestowing a beaming and confidential smile upon her. "Mr. Darrell, you shall not amuse yourself at my expense," she responded gaily, as she plunged into the crowd under the wing of her new escort, who was staring at her with the languid yet undisguised admiration of his class. "Now this is the real thing," said Lord Watergate to Gertrude, as they stopped before the canvas they had come to seek. "Yes," said Gertrude, in mechanical acquiescence. She was thinking: "What a mean soul I must have. Every one seems to like and admire this Sidney Darrell: and I suspect everything about him--even his art. For the sake of a prejudice; of a little hurt vanity, perhaps, as well." "That, 'yes,' hasn't the ring of the true coin, Miss Lorimer." "This is scarcely the time and place for criticism, Lord Watergate," laughed Gertrude. "For hostile criticism, you mean. You are a terrible person to please, are you not?" As the room began to clear Darrell took Frank aside, and glancing in the direction of the sisters, who had re-united their forces, said: "You know those girls, intimately, I believe." "Yes." (Very promptly.) "I wonder if that beautiful Phyllis would sit to me?" "She would probably be immensely honoured." "Well, you see, it's this: I want her for Cressida." "Rather a disagreeable sort of subject isn't it?" said Frank, doubtfully; then added, with professional interest: "I didn't know you had such a picture on hand, Mr. Darrell." "The idea occurred to me this very afternoon. It was the sight of the fair Phyllis, in fact, which suggested it." "Were you thinking of the scene in the orchard, or in the Greek camp?" "Neither; one could hardly ask a lady to sit for such a picture. No, it is Cressida, before her fall, I want; as she stands at the street corner with Pandarus, waiting for the Trojan heroes to pass, don't you know? Half ironical, half wistful; with the light of that little _tendre_ for Troilus just beginning to dawn in her eyes. She would be the very thing for it." "Are you going to propose it to her?" said Frank, who looked as if he did not much relish the idea. "I shall ask her to sit for me, at any rate. There's the dragon-sister to be got round first." "Indeed you are mistaken about Miss Lorimer." Darrell gave a short laugh. "I beg your pardon, my dear fellow!" Frank frowned, and Darrell, going forward to the Lorimers, preferred his request. Phyllis looked pleased; and Gertrude, suppressing the signs of her secret dislike to the scheme, said, quietly: "Phyllis must refer you to her sister Fanny. It depends on whether she can spare the time to bring her to your studio." She glanced up as she spoke, and met, almost with open defiance, the heavy grey eyes of the man opposite. From these she perceived the irony to have faded; she read nothing there but a cold dislike.