But the objects that intrigued the visitor most strongly were
several paintings. They were of a kind she had seldom seen, and in
the afternoon light one stood out with particularly startling
effect. It was a dusky landscape; there was a stream, a meadow
edge, trees just growing black against a dying sunset, a herd of
cattle coming out of the west. Before this picture Lorelei paused,
staring with wide eyes of wonder.

Lilas flung her hat carelessly into a chair, lit a cigarette from
a Tiffany humidor, then turned with the spaniel in her arms and,
beholding her guest with rapt, upturned face, remarked, with a
laugh:

"Looks the real thing, doesn't it?"

"Oh--it's wonderful--so clean and cool and quiet! I've seen cattle
in Vale that looked just like those, when I went barefoot in the
grass."

"Some Dutchman painted it--his name's in the corner. He's dead
now, I believe. It used to hang in some museum--I forget where. I
like pictures of women best, but--" She shrugged and left her
sentence unfinished. "There's a dandy in my bedroom, although it
didn't cost half as much as that barn-yard thing. The frame's a
foot wide and covered with solid gold."

"I had no idea you lived like this." Lorelei peered through a pair
of French doors and into a perfectly appointed library, with a
massive mahogany table, deep lounging-chairs, a writing-desk, and
a dome-crowned reading-lamp.