omed to have her impressions
moulded by her self-assertive elder brother; and he, at any rate at
first, had been careful to show that he regarded Lightmark as an
object of his patronage rather than as a friend who could meet him
on his own exalted level. He had been known, in his earlier years,
to speak somewhat contemptuously of "artists"; and, indeed, his want
of sympathy with Bohemians in general had given Eve occasion for
much wondering mental comment, when her brother first spoke of
introducing the portrait-painter to the family circle.

However, brotherly rule over a girl's opinions is apt to be
disestablished when she draws near the autumn of her teens; and
after her emancipation from the schoolroom and short frocks, Miss
Eve began to think it was time that she should be allowed to
entertain and express views of her own. And after her first ball, an
occasion on which her programme had speedily been besieged, and the
_debutante_ marked as dangerous by the observant mothers of
marriageable sons and daughters--after this important function,
even Charles had begun to regard his pretty sister with a certain
amount of deference. He certainly had reason to congratulate himself
on having so attractive a young person to pour out his coffee and
compose his "buttonholes" before he started for chambers in the
morning. Eve was at an age when the wild-rose tints of a complexion
fostered by judicious walks and schoolroom teas had not yet yielded
to the baneful influence of late dinners and the other orgies which
society conducts in an unduly-heated atmosphere. Her figure was
still almost childishly slim, but graceful, and straight enough to
defy criticism in the ball-room or the saddle. Her eyes were gray,
with a curious, starry expression in their depths, which always
suggested that the smile which was so often on her lips was quite
ready to exaggerate the dimples in her cheeks. Her hair was
refractory, from her own point of view; but Lightmark found the
tangled brown masses, which she wore gathered into a loose knot high
at the back of her shapely head, entirely charming, and suggestive,
in a way, of one of Lancret's wood nymphs.

She could never bring herself to believe that her nose was pretty,
although in the seclusion of her chamber she had frankly criticised
her reflected image; and perhaps it _was_ a trifle too small for most
critics. Still, her admirers declared that, especially in profile,
it was delightfully piqua