“No, sir. When I hunt or recognize friends, I shall borrow Diogenes’ lantern. Good morning, Dr. Grey.”
“Pardon me if I detain you for a moment to inquire who taught you to paint.”
“The absolute necessity of self-forgetfulness.”
“But you surely had some tuition in the art?”
“Yes; I had the usual boarding-school privilege of a master for perspective, and pastel. Dr. Grey, have you been to Europe?”
“Yes, madam; on several occasions.”
“You visited Dresden?”
“I did.”
“Step forward a little,—there. Now, sir, do you know that painting hanging over my escritoire?”
“It is Ruysdael’s ‘Churchyard,’ and, from this distance, 187 seems a remarkably fine copy of that sombre, desolate, ghoul-haunted picture.”