‘Have you a taste for art?’ demanded Mr. Cavendish Dusautoy, turning to her with magnificent suavity.
‘I used to be very fond of drawing.’
‘Genre is my style,’ he pursued, almost overthrowing her gravity by the original of his aunt’s imitation. ‘I took lessons of old Barbouille—excellent master. Truth and nature, those were his maxims; and from the moment I heard them, I said, “This is my man.” We used positively to live in the Borghese. There!’ as he walked backwards, after adjusting his production in the best light.
‘A snipe,’ said Albinia.
‘A snipe that I killed in the Pontine marshes.’
‘There is very good shooting about Anxur,’ said Albinia.
‘You have been at Rome?’ He permitted himself a little animation at discovering any one within the pale of civilization.
‘For one fortnight in the course of a galloping tour with my two brothers,’ said Albinia. ‘All the Continent in one long vacation!’
‘That was much to be regretted. It is my maxim to go through every museum thoroughly.’
‘I can’t regret,’ said Albinia. ‘I should be very sorry to give up my bright indistinct haze of glorious memories, though I was too young to appreciate all I saw.’