_Culch._ I am nothing of the kind. I find him distasteful to me,
and avoid him as much as I can, that's all. I wish, PODBURY, er--I
_almost_ wish you could have stayed with me, instead of allowing the
PRENDERGASTS to carry you off as you did. You would have kept VAN
BOODELER in order.

_Podb._ Much obliged, old chap; but I'm otherwise engaged. Being kept
in order myself. Oh, I _like_ it, you know. She's developing my mind
like winking. Spent the whole morning at the Brera, mugging up these
old Italian Johnnies. They really are clinkers, you know. RAPHAEL,
eh?--and GIOTTO, and MANTEGNA, and all that lot. As HYPATIA says, for
intensity of--er religious feeling, and--and subtlety of symbolism,
and--and so on, they simply take the cake--romp in, and the rest
nowhere! I'm getting quite the connoisseur, I can tell you!

_Culch._ Evidently. I suppose there's no chance of a--a
_reconciliation_ up there? [_With some alarm._

_Podb._ Don't you be afraid. When HYPATIA once gets her quills up,
they don't subside so easily! Hallo! isn't this old TROTTER?

[_That gentleman appears in the doorway._

_Mr. T._ Why, Mr. PODBURY, so you've come along here? That's _right_!
And how do you like Milan? I like the place first-rate--it's a
live city, Sir. And I like this old cathedral, too; it's well
constructed--they've laid out money on it. I call it real ornamental,
all these little figgers they've stuck around--and not two of 'em a
pair either. Now, they might have had 'em all alike, and no one any