French name, belonging to a good old French family. The Jocelyns
bore arms for the Duc d'Anjou in the reign of Queen Elizabeth--and
this man is a sort of last descendant, very proud of his ancestry.
I'll bring him along and introduce him to you if you'll allow me."

Innocent murmured something--she scarcely knew what,--and in a few
minutes found herself giving the conventional bow in response to
the formal words--"Miss Armitage, Mr. de Jocelyn"--and looking
straight up at the blue eyes that a short while since had flashed
an almost compelling glance into her own. A strange sense of
familiarity and recognition moved her; something of the expression
of her "Dad" was in the face of this other Jocelyn of whom she
knew nothing,--and her heart beat so quickly that she could
scarcely speak in answer when he addressed her, as he did in a
somewhat abrupt manner.

"Are you an art student?"

She smiled a little.

"Oh no! I am--nothing! ... I love pictures of course--"

"There is no 'of course' in it," he said, a humorous curve lifting
the corners of his moustache--"You're not bound to love pictures
at all! Most people hate them, and scarcely anybody understands
them!"

She listened, charmed by the mellow and deep vibration of his
voice.