showed, to
Sherringham's sense, how little they understood the matter. Poor Biddy
was immensely struck; she grew flushed and absorbed in proportion as
Miriam, at her best moments, became pale and fatal. It was she who spoke
to her first, after it was agreed that they had better not fatigue her
any more; she advanced a few steps, happening to be nearest--she
murmured: "Oh thank you so much. I never saw anything so beautiful, so
grand."

She looked very red and very pretty as she said this, and Peter
Sherringham liked her enough to notice her more and like her better when
she looked prettier than usual. As he turned away he heard Miriam make
answer with no great air of appreciation of her tribute: "I've seen you
before--two days ago at the Salon with Mr. Dormer. Yes, I know he's your
brother. I've made his acquaintance since. He wants to paint my
portrait. Do you think he'll do it well?" He was afraid the girl was
something of a brute--also somewhat grossly vain. This impression would
perhaps have been confirmed if a part of the rest of the short
conversation of the two young women had reached his ear. Biddy ventured
to observe that she herself had studied modelling a little and that she
could understand how any artist would think Miss Rooth a splendid
subject. If indeed _she_ could attempt her head, that would be a chance
indeed.

"Thank you," said Miriam with a laugh as of high comedy. "I think I had
rather not _passer par toute la famille_!" Then she added: "If your
brother's an artist I don't understand how he's in Parliament."

"Oh he isn't in Parliament now--we only hope he will be."

"Ah I see."

"And he isn't an artist either," Biddy felt herself conscientiously
bound to state.

"Then he isn't anything," said Miss Rooth.

"Well--he's immensely clever."

"Ah I see," Miss Rooth again replied. "Mr. Nash has puffed him up so."

"I don't know Mr. Nash," said Biddy, guilty of a little dryness as well
as of a little misrepresentation, and feeling rather snubbed.

"Well, you needn't wish to."

Biddy stood with her a moment longer, still looking at her and not
knowing what to say next, but not finding her any less handsome because
she had such odd manners. Biddy had an ingenious little mind, which
always tried as much as possible to keep different things separate. It
was pervaded now by the reflexion, attended with some relief, that if
the girl spoke to her with such unexpected familiarity of Nick she said