get any,
which, I suppose, will please you to hear. Leslie was disappointed. I
told your friend we would look in on a better day, when he had some of
the real thing. He wasn't pleased. I expect he passes off numbers of
those things on people as antiques. You ought to qualify your remarks
in the Gem, Hilary--add that Signor Leroni has to be cautiously dealt
with--or you'll be letting the uncritical plaque-buyer through rather
badly."

"I daresay they can look after themselves," Hilary said, easily; and
Peggy added:

"After all, so long as they _are_ uncritical, it can't matter to them
what sort of a plaque they get!" which of course, was one point of view.

CHAPTER VII

DIANA, ACTAEON, AND LORD EVELYN

Hilary and Peter gondoled to Lord Evelyn Urquhart's residence, a rather
exquisite little old palace called Ca' delle Gemme, and were received
affectionately by the tall, slim, dandified-looking young-old man, with
his white ringed hands and high sweet voice and courtly manner. He had
aged since Peter remembered him; the slim hands were shakier and the
near-sighted eyes weaker and the delicate face more deeply lined with the
premature lines of dissipation and weak health. He put his monocle in his
left eye and smiled at Peter, with the old charming smile that was like
his nephew's, and tilted to and fro on his heels.

"Not changed at all, as far as I can see," he said to Peter, with the
same mincing, finicking pronunciation that had pleased the boy Peter
eight years ago. "Only my sight isn't what it was. _Are_ you changed at
all? Do you still like Bow rose-bowls better than anything except Denis?
Denis is coming here soon, you know, so I shall be able to discover. Oh,
I beg pardon--Mr. Peter Margerison, Mr. Cheriton."

Mr. Cheriton was a dark, sturdy young man with an aggressive jaw, who
bowed without a smile and looked one rather hard in the face. Peter was
a little frightened of him--these curt, brisk manners made him nervous
always--and felt a desire to edge behind Hilary. He gathered that Hilary
and Cheriton did not very much like one another. He knew what that slight
nervous contraction of Hilary's forehead meant.

Dinner was interesting. Lord Evelyn told pleasant and funny stories in
his high, tittering voice, addressing himself to all his guests, but
looking at Peter when he came to his points. (People usually looked at
Peter when they came to the points of their stories.) Hilary talked a
good deal