'Who are the judges this year?' I asked, not that I did not know
precisely who they were likely to be. There is a custom in these
matters, and I had been part of Simla for eleven years.

Dora took the catalogue from my hand and turned its pages over.

'Mr. Cathcart, of course; the Private Secretary to the Viceroy would
be on the Committee almost ex officio, wouldn't he? Impossible to
conceive a Private Secretary to the Viceroy whose opinion would not
be valuable upon any head. The member for Public Works--I suppose
he can build bridges, or could once, therefore he can draw, or could
once; besides, look at his precedence and his pay! General Haycock-
-isn't he head of the Ordnance Department? I can't think of any
other reason for putting him on. Oh yes--he's a K.C.B., and he is
inventing a way of taking coloured photographs. Mr. Tilley, the old
gentleman that teaches elementary drawing to the little girls in the
diocesan school, that's all right. And Mr. Jay, of course, because
Mr. Jay's water-colours are the mainstay of the exhibition, and he
must be given a chance of expressing his opinion of them.' She
handed me back the catalogue. 'I have never been really angry with
them before,' she said.

'Are you really angry now?' I asked.

'Furious,' Dora replied, and indeed her face expressed indignation.
Its lines were quite tense, and a spark shone oddly in the middle of
the eyes. One could not credit her with beauty, but as her lady
friends were fond of saying, there was something 'more' in her face.
I saw a good deal more at this moment, and it gave me pleasure, as
all her feelings did when they came out like that. I hasten to add