ir Adam, nodding gravely, as he
dissected the bones out of a fried sardine.

"You're awfully good about it," said Lady Johnstone, in thanks for
unlimited porters to come.

Like many unusually stout people, she ate very little, and had plenty of
time for talking.

"You knew my husband a long time ago, then!" she began, again looking
across at Mrs. Bowring.

Sir Adam glanced at Mrs. Bowring sharply from beneath his shaggy brows.

"Oh yes," she said calmly. "We met before he was married."

The grey-headed man slowly nodded assent, but said nothing.

"Before his first marriage?" inquired Lady Johnstone gravely. "You know
that he has been married twice."

"Yes," answered Mrs. Bowring. "Before his first marriage."

Again Sir Adam nodded solemnly.

"How interesting!" exclaimed Lady Johnstone. "Such old friends! And to
meet in this accidental way, in this queer place!"

"We generally live abroad," said Mrs. Bowring. "Generally in Florence.
Do you know Florence?"

"Oh yes!" cried the fat lady enthusiastically. "I dote on Florence. I'm
perfectly mad about pictures, you know. Perfectly mad!"

The vision of a woman cast in Lady Johnstone's proportions and perfectly
mad might have provoked a smile on Mrs. Bowring's face at any other
time.

"I suppose you buy pictures, as well as admire them," she said, glad of
the turn the conversation had taken.

"Sometimes," answered the other. "Sometimes. I wish I could buy more.
But good pictures are getting to be most frightfully dear. Besides, you
are hardly ever sure of getting an original, unless there are all the
documents--and that means thousands, literally thousands of pounds. But
now and then I kick over the traces, you know."

Clare could not help smiling at the simile, and bent down her head.
Brook was watching her, he understood and was annoyed, for he loved his
mother in his own way.

"At all events you won't be able to ruin yourself in pictures here,"
said Mrs. Bowring.

"No--but how about the porters?" suggested Sir Adam.

"My dear Adam," said Lady Johnstone, "unless they are all Shylocks here,
they won't exact a ducat for every pound of flesh. If they did, you
would certainly never get back to England."

It was impossible not to laugh. Lady Johnstone did not look at all the
sort of person to say witty things, though she was the very incarnation
of good humour--except when she thought that Brook was in danger of
being married. And every one laughed, Sir A