"Yes," said Sir Benjamin again, "five hundred pounds down. I am ready to draw you a cheque this minute." "This picture is not for sale, Sir Benjamin," said Dora frigidly, "neither for five hundred nor for five thousand, nor for any other sum that it may please you to offer." Lorimer would have loved to cry _Bravo_! "She does love him, then, still--we shall save her," he said to himself. "You see, my dear Sir Benjamin," said he, "the offer is useless. I suppose you still have the spare thirty-six by fifty to fill up, eh?" "Ah, ah," laughed the alderman; "yes, that is to say, no; it is a new vacancy on my walls. Everyone has his fads here on earth, has he not? The Queen gives shawls to her friends when they marry, I give pictures to mine. It gives me occasion to purchase new pictures. Well, madam," he added, turning to Dora, "I admire you--I will beg you to excuse me. I thought that, perhaps, you might have been very glad to ... I wanted very much," he went on, retiring, nervous and awkward, towards the door, "to have that picture, but I wished also to do you a good turn--to render you a friendly service which could not hurt your susceptibilities.... After all, artists try to sell their pictures, don't they?... And I should have thought that such an offer at such a time" ... The unfortunate man floundered more and more. "Well, excuse me," said he; "I will wish you good-morning." His back was now against the door. The next second he was in the street again. The poor fellow mopped the perspiration from his brow. "The woman is mad--she is a prig!" he said to himself, as he hailed a passing hansom and set out for the City, where he was more in his element. Dora was choking with anger. Lorimer rubbed his hands with joy. "Not even a front door of my own to protect me against the importunities of such a fool as that! Oh, the sympathy of such a man! The drop that overbrims the vase! The kick of the jackass! And you can stand there and laugh." "Ah, my dear Dora, what good you have done me!" exclaimed Lorimer, who could not contain his delight. "You were quite right--not for five hundred, nor for five thousand, nor for a million. That picture is a treasure no gold could pay for--never let it go--Philip will finish it. Oh, how happy you have made me! You love him still! you know you do," he cried. "You know nothing about it," said Dora, and, taking the little packet that Lorimer had brought her from her husband, she went towards her bedroom. "I am tiring you," said Lorimer. "I ought not to have stayed so long, but it seemed to me I had so many things to say to you--and I have not got through half of them. Look here, I have a little business in the neighbourhood, my time is my own; may I come at four o'clock to ask you for a cup of tea?" "Why, of course," said Dora. "How nice of you! Oh, it is good to see a friend who is always the same."