It was a lofty, fantastical apartment, with an oval roof tinted a dull grey, on which were traced red lines of a symmetrical pattern to resemble bamboo framing, and the walls were hung with Chinese paper, forming a kind of tapestry on which the artist, ignorant of perspective, had traced strange trees, brilliant birds, impossible towers, bizarre bridges, and odd-looking figures. In the four corners of the room, on slender pedestals, sat almond-eyed, burly mandarins, cross-legged, with their long hands folded placidly on their protuberant stomachs, and pagoda-shaped hats, with jingling bells on their pig-tailed heads. Chinese matting on the floor, lounging chairs of bamboo work, oblong tables, on which stood barbaric vases of porcelain, all gave this room a strange Eastern look, suggesting thoughts of crowded Pekin, the odour of new-gathered tea, and a vision of queer towers rising from the rice plains, under burning skies. Otterburn was not thinking of the Flowery Land, however, as his mind was too full of Victoria, and he stood silently watching her graceful head bent over her writing, until, by that strange instinct which warns everyone that someone is near, she raised her eyes and saw him standing close to the door. "Oh, good morning," she cried gaily, as he advanced. "Sit down for a few moments, and don't interrupt me. I'm engaged in a most unpleasant task. Writing to Aunt Jelly." "Why! is it so disagreeable?" said the young man, sitting down in one of the light chairs, which creaked complainingly under his weight. "Very," replied Miss Sheldon, nodding her head and pursing up her lips. "Very, very disagreeable. Being my guardian, she always seems to think I'm in mischief, and I have to report myself once a week to her like a ticket-of-leave man, or rather woman." "Do you tell her everything?" asked Otterburn, rather aghast. "With certain reservations. Yes!" "I hope I'm included in the reservations?" "Well, yes. At least, I've not yet sent Aunt Jelly a portrait of you." "And shall I ever gain that enviable distinction?" Miss Sheldon shrugged her shoulders with a laugh. "Do you think it enviable to be dissected for the benefit of a carping old woman? I'm sure I don't. Besides, as you are a friend of Mr. Gartney's, you will meet his dreadful aunt on your return to England, and she can criticise you herself, instead of gaining an impression second-hand from me." "If I do meet her, I hope the criticism will be favourable." "Why so?" "Because you are her ward." "I don't see the connection," replied Victoria, with feminine duplicity, but her heightened colour showed that she understood his meaning, and Otterburn, being by no means deficient in understanding regarding the sex, immediately took advantage of the secret sympathy thus suddenly engendered between them.