"I'm not such a fool as to suppose that fame is secured by advertisement," I said--"For instance I am one of those who think the fame of Millais as an artist was marred when he degraded himself to the level of painting the little green boy blowing bubbles of Pears's Soap. That was an advertisement. And that very incident in his career, trifling though it seems, will prevent his ever standing on the same dignified height of distinction with such masters in art as Romney, Sir Peter Lely, Gainsborough or Reynolds." "I believe there is a great deal of justice in what you say;" and Morgeson shook his head wisely--"Viewed from a purely artistic and sentimental standpoint you are right." And he became suddenly downcast and dubious. "Yes,--it is a most extraordinary thing how fame does escape people sometimes just when they seem on the point of grasping it. They are 'boomed' in every imaginable way, and yet after a time nothing will keep them up. And there are others again who get kicked and buffeted and mocked and derided----" "Like Christ?" I interposed with a half smile. He looked shocked,--he was a Non-conformist,--but remembering in time how rich I was, he bowed with a meek patience. "Yes"--and he sighed--"as you suggest, Mr Tempest, like Christ. Mocked and derided and opposed at every turn,--and yet by the queerest caprice of destiny, they succeed in winning a world-wide fame and power----" "Like Christ again!" I said mischievously, for I loved to jar his non-conformist conscience. "Exactly!" He paused, looking piously down. Then with a return of secular animation he added--"But I was not thinking of the Great Example just then, Mr Tempest--I was thinking of a woman." "Indeed!" I said indifferently.