one of the things that pays best nowadays--with all these Americans
about. It's a way of investing your money. Doesn't he show them to
anybody?"

"Nobody is allowed to go near him, or his house. He has built a high wall
round his park, and dogs are let loose at night that tear you to pieces."

"Nice man! If it weren't for the dogs, I should brave him. In a small
way, I'm a collector myself."

He smiled, and Lydia understood that the personal reference was thrown
out as a feeler, in case she might be willing to push the conversation
further. But she did not respond, although as he spoke she happened to
notice that he wore a remarkable ring on his left hand, which seemed
to illustrate his remark. An engraved gem?--Greek? Her eyes were quick
for such things.

However, she was seized with shyness, and as she had now finished the
packing of her brushes and paints, and the young man had elaborately
fastened all the straps of the portable easel and its case, there was
nothing for him to do but to stoop unwillingly for his soft hat which was
lying on the grass. Then an idea struck him.

"I say, what are you going to do with all these things?"

"Carry them home." She smiled. "I am not a cripple."

"Mightn't I--mightn't I carry them for you?"

"Thank you. My way lies in quite another direction. Good-night."