The grey gentleman looked across the room at a large painting of a girl in a white dress skipping with a rope of roses.
"Please, sir," said young Charles, "I think that is Mrs. Lovely."
"It was, boy; it was."
"I wish I had known her then," said Charles.
"Is your name George, boy?" inquired the grey gentleman in a tone that was half eager.
"No, sir, 'tis Charles—after the Prince of Wales."
"A Papist, eh?" said the grey gentleman bitterly.
"George was too honest a name for that scoundrel. Well, boy, you can stay."
"Please, sir, I'd rather go back to my father," said the boy. "He's waiting for me."
"Then go and be d——d," said the grey gentleman, and he walked over to the window.