The faded blue eyes behind the gold-rimmed spectacles inspected it carefully. "Done when she was a child—of course?" said Mrs. Willett.
"Eighteen," said Mrs. Chinnery, in a deep voice.
"I'm no judge of such things," said the old lady, shaking her head. "I only know what I like; but I dare say it's very clever."
She turned to help herself from a plate that the captain was offering her, and, finding that it contained cake, said that she would prefer bread and butter.
"Not that I don't like cake," she said. "As a rule I am rather partial to it."
"Well, have some now," said the unfortunate captain, trying to avoid Mrs. Chinnery's eye.
"Bread and butter, please," said Mrs. Willett, with quiet decision.
The captain passed it, and after a hopeless glance at Mr. Truefitt and Miss Willett, who were deep in the enjoyment of each other's society, returned to the subject of art.
"If I could draw like that, ma'am," he said, with a jerk of his head toward the ruined castle, "I should give up the sea."
Mrs. Willett inspected it again, even going to the length of taking off her glasses and polishing them, with a view to doing perfect justice to the subject. "Would you really?" she said, when she had finished.