"If you have quite finished not looking at those photographs, give them to me, Brett," said Vanbrugh. "Miss Maylands wishes to see them."
"Oh, take them by all means," answered Brett, thrusting a dozen or more into his hands. "As I was saying, Mrs. Darche, I am the worst judge of architecture in the world—especially from photographs."
"Architecture, eh?" observed Vanbrugh, as he re-crossed the room with Dolly. "Rather hard on photographs of etchings from portraits."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Dolly, laughing softly and looking back at Brett and Mrs. Darche. "They talk of love's temple, you know, and building up one's happiness—and lots of things of that sort—the architecture of the affections."
"You seem to care," said Vanbrugh, sitting down and laying the photographs upon his knees.
"Do I? Do you not?"
"I—oh, well, in a sort of a fatherly way, I suppose." He held up one of the photographs upside down and looked at it.
"Yes. Now I care in a sort of a sisterly way, you know. It is very much the same thing, I fancy."
"Is that all?" asked Vanbrugh with a short laugh. "I thought you had made up your mind."
"About what?"