Second Person, &c. No, I rather like it. (Feels that he is growing too lenient). He doesn't give you a very good idea of marble, though.
First P. &c. No—that's not marble, and he always puts too many folds in his drapery to suit me.
First P. &c. Just what I always say. It's not natural, you know.
[They pass on, much pleased with themselves and one another.
A Fiancé (halting before a sea-scape, by Mr. Henry Moore, to Fiancée). Here, I say, hold on a bit—what's this one?
Fiancée (who doesn't mean to waste the whole afternoon over pictures). Why, it's only a lot of waves—come on!
The Suburban L. Lucy, this is rather nice. "Breakfasts for the Porth!" (Pondering). I think there must be a mistake in the Catalogue—I don't see any breakfast things—they're cleaning fish, and what's a "Porth!" Would you mark that—or not?
Her Comp. Oh, I think so.
The S. L. I don't know. I've marked such a quantity already and the lead won't hold out much longer. Oh, it's by Hook, R.A. Then I suppose it's sure to be all right. I've marked it, dear.
Duet by Two Dreadfully Severe Young Ladies, who paint a little on China. Oh, my dear, look at that. Did you ever see such a thing? Isn't it too perfectly awful? And there's a thing! Do come and look at this horror over here. A "Study," indeed. I should just think it was! Oh, Maggie, don't be so satirical, or I shall die! No, but do just see this—isn't it killing? They get worse and worse every year, I declare!