"Very cosy here; very comfortable quarters indeed. You are evidently doing well. One is constantly hearing of artists who live on buns in garrets ... upon my word, I don't know any such inviting and attractive houses as those inhabited by artists, and I flatter myself I know them all." "Painters surround themselves with a certain artistic luxury, as a means of inspiration," said Philip; "and then, Sir Benjamin," added he, laughing, "I don't see why all the good things of this life should be for the fools. Pray, take a seat." "Thanks," said the patron of arts ... "I came" ... "To arrange for a portrait?" "No, no, not a portrait. Now I hope I shan't offend you by saying so, but I really don't care for portraits in oil. You may say what you like, but, to have a perfect likeness, give me a good coloured photograph. That's my tackle. For fancy portraits, very good, but otherwise" ... "It sounds promising," thought Lorimer, who took up his position near the window, to enjoy the fun. "The moment a process is discovered for photographing colour as well as lines and shade," continued Sir Benjamin, "nobody will want a painted portrait. For a portrait, you don't want imagination, you want truth, sir, real truth, an exact reproduction of the original." "Some people prefer Madame Tussaud's Exhibition to the Louvre or the British Museum," said Lorimer. The City alderman turned round and looked at him, and Philip introduced them to each other. "Sir Benjamin Pond--Mr. Gerald Lorimer, our well-known playwright; no doubt you know him by reputation." "Delighted to make your acquaintance," said Pond, shaking hands with Lorimer. "I see by the papers that you are going to give us a new play. When I was a young man I wrote several plays myself, but I thought better of it, and, like a good Briton, I preferred to be useful to my country and go into business. No offence, I hope," added he, bursting into loud guffaws. "How long is this ass going to stay here boring us, I wonder?" murmured Philip. "But to return to the object of my visit," said Sir Benjamin. "A few days ago my daughter got married, and, among other presents, I gave her the choice of two pictures in my gallery. It has left two empty spaces on my wall, one eighteen by twenty-four, another thirty-six by fifty. Now, what have you got that would fill them?" "Framed or unframed?" said Philip, who by this time was beginning to thoroughly enjoy the situation. "Bless me, framed, of course," said Sir Benjamin. "I asked the question merely to form an idea of the size of the canvas." "Do you think you have what I want? Some pictures that you have finished lately? If they are a trifle smaller, it won't matter much. I like wide frames, they show their value better; and no picture ever suffered from a good-sized frame. I have all my frames made at Denis's ... only the French know how to frame pictures and bind books." "A sensible remark," said Lorimer to himself.