it spurred his bemused wits into something approaching their normal
activity.

"I have not the excuse of the Canaletto," he said, compelling a
pleasant smile, "but may I plead an even more distracting vision? I
came here expecting to meet an elderly gentleman of the class which
flippant Americans describe as 'high-brow,' and I am suddenly brought
face to face with a Romney 'portrait of a lady' in real life. Is it
likely that such an insignificant object as a chair, and a small one
at that, would succeed in catching my eye?"

Evelyn Forbes laughed, with a joyous mingling of surprise and relief.
Most certainly, Mr. Theydon's manner of speech differed vastly from
the disconcerting expression of positive bewilderment, if not actual
fright, which marred his entrance.

"Do I really resemble a Romney? Which one?" she cried.

"An admitted masterpiece."

"Ah, but people who pay compliments deserve to be put on the rack. I
insist on a definition."

"Lady Hamilton as Joan of Arc."

He drew the bow at random, and was gratified to see that his hearer
was puzzled.

"I don't know that particular picture," she said, "but I cannot
imagine any model less adapted to the subject."