Sir Guy, according to his cynical cousin, was a handsome young fellow, with three ideas of primitive simplicity in his head, namely, shooting, hunting, and dining. Quite of the orthodox English type, according to the Gallic "it's-a-fine-day-let-us-go-and-kill-something" idea, so Otterburn, having met many such heroes of sporting instincts, asked no more questions regarding the gentleman, but being moved by the inevitable curiosity of man concerning woman, put the three orthodox questions which form a social trinity of perfection in masculine eyes. "Is she pretty?" Silence on the part of Mr. Eustace Gartney. "Is she young?" Still silence, but the ghost of a smile on the thin lips. "Is she rich?" Oracle again mute, whereupon the exasperated worshipper queries more comprehensively: "Then what is she?" Vague, enigmatic answer of the oracle: "She is an Incomplete Madonna." Otterburn stared in puzzled surprise at this epigrammatic response to his boyish cross-examination, and after a bewildered pause burst out laughing. "You're too deep for me, Gartney," he said at length, blowing a cloud of thin blue smoke. "I don't understand that intellectual extract of beef wherein the qualities of one's friends are boiled down into a single witty phrase." This reply pleased Eustace, especially as he was conscious of having said rather a neat thing, so glancing out into the brilliant world of sunshine to see how far they were from their destination, he lighted another cigarette and explained himself gravely: "I am very fond of ticketing my friends in that way, as it saves such a lot of trouble in answering questions; if you asked me what I should like in my tea, I should not answer 'the sweet juice of cane crystallized into white grains.' No! I should simply say 'sugar,' which includes all the foregoing; therefore when you ask me to describe Lady Errington, I say she is an incomplete Madonna, which is an admirable description of her in two words." "This," remarked Otterburn, somewhat annoyed, "is a lecture on the use and abuse of epigrams. I don't want to know about epigrams, but I do want to know about Lady Errington. Your two-word description is no doubt witty, but it doesn't answer any of my questions." "Pardon me, it answers the whole three." "I don't see it." "Listen then, oh groper in Cimmerian gloom. You ask if Lady Errington is young--of course, the Madonna is always painted young. Is she pretty? The Madonna, as you will see in Italian pictures, is absolutely lovely. Is she rich? My dear lad, we well know Mary was the wife of a carpenter, and therefore poor in worldly wealth. Ergo, I have answered all your questions by the use of the phrase incomplete Madonna." "A very whimsical explanation at best, besides, you have answered more than I asked by the use of the word incomplete--why is Lady Errington incomplete?" "Because she is not yet a mother."