“Yes,” answered Mrs. Bowring. “Before his first marriage.”
Again Sir Adam nodded solemnly.
“How interesting!” exclaimed Lady Johnstone. “Such old friends! And to meet in this accidental way, in this queer place!”
“We generally live abroad,” said Mrs. Bowring. “Generally in Florence. Do you know Florence?”
“Oh yes!” cried the fat lady enthusiastically. “I dote on Florence. I’m perfectly mad about pictures, you know. Perfectly mad!”
The vision of a woman cast in Lady Johnstone’s proportions and perfectly mad might have provoked a smile on Mrs. Bowring’s face at any other time.
“I suppose you buy pictures, as well as admire them,” she said, glad of the turn the conversation had taken.
“Sometimes,” answered the other. “Sometimes. I wish I could buy more. But good pictures are getting to be most frightfully dear. Besides, you are hardly ever sure of getting an original, unless there are all the documents—and that means thousands, literally thousands of pounds. But now and then I kick over the traces, you know.”
Clare could not help smiling at the simile, and bent down her head. Brook was watching her, he understood and was annoyed, for he loved his mother in his own way.
“At all events you won’t be able to ruin yourself in pictures here,” said Mrs. Bowring.