"He's so beautiful, so fascinating. He's like some perfect little
work of art."

He turned quickly in the passage, grasping my arm. "Oh don't call
him that, or you'll--you'll--!"

But in his hesitation he broke off suddenly, laughing at my surprise.
Immediately afterwards, however, he added: "You'll make his little
future very difficult."

I declared that I wouldn't for the world take any liberties with his
little future--it seemed to me to hang by threads of such delicacy.
I should only be highly interested in watching it.

"You Americans are very keen," he commented on this. "You notice
more things than we do."

"Ah if you want visitors who aren't struck with you," I cried, "you
shouldn't have asked me down here!"

He showed me my room, a little bower of chintz, with open windows
where the light was green, and before he left me said irrelevantly:
"As for my small son, you know, we shall probably kill him between us
before we've done with him!" And he made this assertion as if he
really believed it, without any appearance of jest, his fine near-
sighted expressive eyes looking straight into mine.

"Do you mean by spoiling him?"