“I don’t mean anything,” he said, hastily. “By the way, are you fond of pictures?”
“I have scarcely ever seen any.”
“That does not matter. I know by your face that you can appreciate some pictures.”
“But, really, I know nothing of art.”
“Never mind. If the painter who paints knows you—”
“The painter knows me? I have never seen an artist in my life.”
“Nevertheless, there are some artists in the world who have conceived of characters like yours. There are some good pictures in this house—shall I show you one or two?”
Prissie sprang to her feet.
“You are most kind,” she said, effusively. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”
“You need not thank me at all; or, at any rate, not in such a loud voice, nor so impressively. Our neighbours will think I have bestowed half a kingdom upon you.”