The other's boyish voice replied

"Missed it, old bean; he's pulling your leg. When Jove and Juno created
he them, he was saying: 'I'll see how much these fools will swallow.'
And they've lapped up the lot."

"You young duffer! Vospovitch is an innovator. Don't you see that he's
brought satire into sculpture? The future of plastic art, of music,
painting, and even architecture, has set in satiric. It was bound to.
People are tired--the bottom's tumbled out of sentiment."

"Well, I'm quite equal to taking a little interest in beauty. I was
through the War. You've dropped your handkerchief, sir."

Soames saw a handkerchief held out in front of him. He took it with
some natural suspicion, and approached it to his nose. It had the right
scent--of distant Eau de Cologne--and his initials in a corner. Slightly
reassured, he raised his eyes to the young man's face. It had rather
fawn-like ears, a laughing mouth, with half a toothbrush growing out
of it on each side, and small lively eyes, above a normally dressed
appearance.

"Thank you," he said; and moved by a sort of irritation, added: "Glad to
hear you like beauty; that's rare, nowadays."

"I dote on it," said the young man; "but you and I are the last of the
old guard, sir."

Soames smiled.