“I am.” “Where do I show it all?” Dick sighed. “Oh, in your eyes of course,” he said. “You show everything by your eyes, you know. It is entirely characteristic of you. You are a throw-back; don’t you remember we settled that ever so long ago, to the brute creation, who likewise show everything by their eyes.” “Oh-h. I should have thought that dogs growled at you, and cats scratched.” “Those are practical measures, but short of that you and animals use their eyes only, whereas people use their mouths and foreheads and other things. A pleased dog, an expectant dog, a hungry dog, a jealous dog, a disappointed dog--one gathers all that from a dog’s eyes. Their mouths are comparatively immobile, and a cat’s is even more so.” “You have often told me that I belong to the genus cat,” said Lady Madingley, with complete composure. “By Jove, yes,” said he. “Perhaps looking at the eyes of a cat would help me to see what I miss. Many thanks for the hint.” He put down his palette and went to a side table on which stood bottles and ice and syphons. “No drink of any kind on this Sahara of a morning?” he asked. “No, thanks. Now when will you give me the final sitting? You said you only wanted one more.” Dick helped himself. “Well, I go down to the country with this,” he said, “to put in the background I told you of. With luck it will take me three days hard painting, without luck a week or more. Oh, my mouth waters at the thought of the background. So shall we say to-morrow week?” Lady Madingley made a note of this in a minute gold and jewelled memorandum book. “And I am to be prepared to see cat’s eyes painted there instead of my own when I see it next?” she asked, passing by the canvas. Dick laughed. “Oh, you will hardly notice the difference,” he said. “How odd it is that I always have detested cats so--they make me feel actually faint, although you always reminded me of a cat.” “You must ask your friend Mr Merwick about these metaphysical mysteries,” said she. * * * * *