“The gift of the brush which perpetuates and the gift of--er--gift of the--” His intellect once more retreated from him into some distant place and left him murmuring: “Beauty demands all, beauty demands all. Yes, yes! Sacrifice! Sacrifice! Isn’t it so?” He tugged at his large moustache, with an abrupt assumption of the cavalry officer’s manner, which he doubtless deemed to be in accordance with his momentary muddle-headedness. “And you give it what it wants most--the touch of the ideal. It blesses you. Can we get through?” She had glanced at Robin while she spoke the first words. Ashley Greaves, with an expression of sudden relief, began very politely to hustle the crowd, which yielded to his persuasive shoulders, and Lady Holme found herself within looking distance of the two portraits, and speaking distance of Mrs. Wolfstein and Miss Schley. She greeted them with a nod that was more gay and friendly than her usual salutations to women, which often lacked _bonhomie_. Mrs. Wolfstein’s too expressive face lit up. “The sensation is complete!” she exclaimed loudly. “Hope you’re well,” murmured Miss Schley, letting her pale eyes rest on Lady Holme for about a quarter of a second, and then becoming acutely attentive to vacancy. Lady Holme was now in front of the pictures. She looked at Miss Schley’s portrait with apparent interest, while Mrs. Wolfstein looked at her with an interest that was maliciously real. “Well?” said Mrs. Wolfstein. “Well?” “There’s an extraordinary resemblance!” said Lady Holme. “It’s wonderfully like.” “Even you see it! Ashley, you ought to be triumphant--” “Wonderfully like--Miss Schley,” added Lady Holme, cutting gently through Mrs. Wolfstein’s rather noisy outburst. She turned to the American. “I have been wondering whether you won’t come in one day and see my little home. Everyone wants you, I know, but if you have a minute some Wednesday--” “I’ll be delighted.” “Next Wednesday, then?” “Thanks. Next Wednesday.” “Cadogan Square--the red book will tell you. But I’ll send cards. I must be running away now.” When she had gone, followed by Robin, Mrs. Wolfstein said to Miss Schley: “She’s been conquered by fear of Philadelphia.” “Wait till I give her Noo York,” returned the American, placidly. It seemed that Lady Holme’s secret hostility to Miss Schley was returned by the vestal virgin. CHAPTER VII LORD HOLME seldom went to parties and never to private views. He thought such things “all damned rot.” Few functions connected with the arts appealed to his frankly Philistine spirit, which rejoiced in celebrations linked with the glories of the body; boxing and wrestling matches, acrobatic performances, weight-lifting exhibitions, and so forth. He regretted that bear-baiting and cock-fighting were no longer legal in England, and had, on two occasions, travelled from London to South America solely in order to witness prize fights.