Our friend was slightly nervous; that went with his character as a
student of fine prose, went with the artist's general disposition to
vibrate; and there was a particular thrill in the idea that Henry St.
George might be a member of the party. For the young aspirant he had
remained a high literary figure, in spite of the lower range of
production to which he had fallen after his first three great successes,
the comparative absence of quality in his later work. There had been
moments when Paul Overt almost shed tears for this; but now that he was
near him--he had never met him--he was conscious only of the fine
original source and of his own immense debt. After he had taken a turn
or two up and down the gallery he came out again and descended the steps.
He was but slenderly supplied with a certain social boldness--it was
really a weakness in him--so that, conscious of a want of acquaintance
with the four persons in the distance, he gave way to motions recommended
by their not committing him to a positive approach. There was a fine
English awkwardness in this--he felt that too as he sauntered vaguely and
obliquely across the lawn, taking an independent line. Fortunately there
was an equally fine English directness in the way one of the gentlemen
presently rose and made as if to "stalk" him, though with an air of
conciliation and reassurance. To this demonstration Paul Overt instantly
responded, even if the gentleman were not his host. He was tall,
straight and elderly and had, like the great house itself, a pink smiling
face, and into the bargain a white moustache. Our young man met him
halfway while he laughed and said: "Er--Lady Watermouth told us you were
coming; she asked me just to look after you." Paul Overt thanked him,
liking him on the spot, and turned round with him to walk toward the
others. "They've all gone to church--all except us," the stranger
continued as they went; "we're just sitting here--it's so jolly." Overt
pronounced it jolly indeed: it was such a lovely place. He mentioned