Second V. (sympathetically). Oh, he did himself very well; you can see that.
The Aunt. Wait a bit, John—don't read so fast. I haven't made out the middle background yet. And where's the figure of St. Michael rising above the gilt tent, lined with fleurs-de-lis on a blue ground? Would this be Guisnes, or Ardres, now? Oh, Ardres on the right—so that's Ardres—yes, yes; and now tell me what it says about the two gold fountains, and that dragon up in the sky.
[John calculates that, at this rate, he has a very poor chance of getting away before the Gallery closes.
The Patronising Persons. 'Um! Holbein again, you see—very curious their ideas of painting in those days. Ah, well, Art has made great progress since then—like everything else!
Miss Fisher. So that's the beautiful Queen Mary! I wonder if it is really true that people have got better-looking since those days?
[Glances appealingly at Phlegmatic Fiancé.
Her Phlegmatic Fiancé. I wonder.
Miss F. You hardly ever see such small hands now, do you? With those lovely long fingers, too!
The Phl. F. No, never.
Miss F. Perhaps people in some other century will wonder how anybody ever saw anything to admire in us?