as taking up the
whole of the available space before it. His companion, a badly-dressed
young woman with a double eye-glass, was trying to decipher the lines
quoted in her catalogue. As Audrey paused she looked up and stared, as
only a woman with a double eye-glass can stare, at the same time
attracting the stout gentleman's attention by a movement of her elbow.

"Look, uncle, quick! That's her! That's the person!"

"What's that, Nettie?" (The stout gentleman swung round as if on a
pivot, as Audrey moved gracefully by.) "You don't mean to say so?
Where's Ted?"

She walked on through the rooms, depressed by the meeting with
Knowles--it suggested Wyndham. She would be meeting _him_ next. And
indeed she met him in the first gallery, where her aimless wanderings
had brought her again.

His wife was with him. Audrey knew that she must meet her some time, and
she had expected to see in Alison Fraser an enlarged edition of herself;
she had even feared an _edition de luxe_, which would have been
intolerable. She was prepared for distinction; but she saw with a finer
agony the slight figure, the sweet proud face with its setting of pale
gold hair, and worse than all, the indefinable air of remoteness and
reserve which made Mrs. Langley Wyndham more than a "distinguished"
woman. Wyndham lifted his hat and would have passed on; but Audrey, to
show her perfect self-possession, stopped and held out her hand. He felt
it trembling as he took it in a preoccupied manner; and Mrs. Langley
Wyndham became instantly absorbed in picture No. 1.

"Have you seen young Haviland's performance?" asked Wyndham. (He had to
say something.)

"Yes; it's a very fine study."

"So Knowles tells me. But everything's a fine study in this collection.
There ought to be 'a fine' for the abuse of that expression."

"But it really is; go and see for yourself."

"It's his sister, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Ah, that accounts for it. He could give his mind to it in that case."
Wyndham was surprised at his own fatuity; his remarks sounded like the
weird inanities that pass for witticisms in dreams.

"Perhaps. But never mind Mr. Haviland; I want you to introduce me to
your wife."

Wyndham looked round; his wife had turned an unconscious back.

"Oh--er--thank you, you're very kind, but--er--we're just going."

He had not meant them so, but his words were like a whip laid across
Audrey's shoulders. He moved on, and his wife joined him.

Audrey came acros