"I didn't know she was such a prig!" Julia's brother commented. "They're queer people, verily, with water in their veins instead of blood. You and I wouldn't be like that, should we?--though you _have_ taken up such a discouraging position about caring for a fellow." "I care for art," poor Biddy returned. "You do, to some purpose"--and Peter glanced at the bust. "To that of making you laugh at me." But this he didn't heed. "Would you give a good man up for 'art'?" "A good man? What man?" "Well, say me--if I wanted to marry you." She had the briefest of pauses. "Of course I would--in a moment. At any rate I'd give up the House of Commons," she amended. "That's what Nick's going to do now--only you mustn't tell any one." Peter wondered. "He's going to chuck up his seat?" "I think his mind is made up to it. He has talked me over--we've had some deep discussions. Yes, I'm on the side of art!" she ardently said. "Do you mean in order to paint--to paint that girl?" Peter went on. "To paint every one--that's what he wants. By keeping his seat he hasn't kept Julia, and she was the thing he cared for most in public life. When he has got out of the whole thing his attitude, as he says, will be at least clear. He's tremendously interesting about it, Peter," Biddy declared; "has talked to me wonderfully--has won me over. Mamma's heart-broken; telling _her_ will be the hardest part." "If she doesn't know," he asked, "why then is she heart-broken?" "Oh at the hitch about their marriage--she knows that. Their marriage has been so what she wanted. She thought it perfection. She blames Nick fearfully. She thinks he held the whole thing in his hand and that he has thrown away a magnificent opportunity." "And what does Nick say to her?" "He says, 'Dear old mummy!'" "That's good," Peter pronounced. "I don't know what will become of her when this other blow arrives," Biddy went on. "Poor Nick wants to please her--he does, he does. But, as he says, you can't please every one and you must before you die please yourself a little."