Annette stretched herself.
"Tar-brush?" she said; "what is that? His mother was Armenienne."
"That's it, then," muttered Soames. "Does he know anything about pictures?"
"He knows about everything—a man of the world."
"Well, get some one for Fleur. I want to distract her. She's going off on Saturday to Val Dartie and his wife; I don't like it."
"Why not?"
Since the reason could not be explained without going into family history, Soames merely answered:
"Racketing about. There's too much of it."
"I like that little Mrs. Val; she is very quiet and clever."
"I know nothing of her except—This thing's new." And Soames took up a creation from the bed.