the young man couldn't remember which--some years before in India.
The servant went away, leaving the glass doors open into the gallery, and
Paul Overt remained at the head of the wide double staircase, saying to
himself that the place was sweet and promised a pleasant visit, while he
leaned on the balustrade of fine old ironwork which, like all the other
details, was of the same period as the house. It all went together and
spoke in one voice--a rich English voice of the early part of the
eighteenth century. It might have been church-time on a summer's day in
the reign of Queen Anne; the stillness was too perfect to be modern, the
nearness counted so as distance, and there was something so fresh and
sound in the originality of the large smooth house, the expanse of
beautiful brickwork that showed for pink rather than red and that had
been kept clear of messy creepers by the law under which a woman with a
rare complexion disdains a veil. When Paul Overt became aware that the
people under the trees had noticed him he turned back through the open
doors into the great gallery which was the pride of the place. It
marched across from end to end and seemed--with its bright colours, its
high panelled windows, its faded flowered chintzes, its
quickly-recognised portraits and pictures, the blue-and-white china of
its cabinets and the attenuated festoons and rosettes of its ceiling--a
cheerful upholstered avenue into the other century.

Our friend was slightly nervous; that went with his character as a
student of fine prose, went with the artist's general disposition to
vibrate; and there was a particular thrill in the idea that Henry St.
George might be a member of the party. For the young aspirant he had
remained a high literary figure, in spite of the lower range of
production to which he had fallen after his first three great successes,
the comparative absence of quality in his later work. There had been
moments when Paul Overt almost shed tears for this; but now that he was
near him--he had never met him--he was conscious only of the fine
original source and of his own immense debt. After he had taken a turn
or two up and down the gallery he came out again and descended the steps.
He was but slenderly supplied with a certain social boldness--it was
really a weakness in him--so that, conscious of a want of acquaintance
with the four persons in the distance, he gave way to motions recommended
by their not committing him