"Oh, what a beautiful room!"
"I am glad you like it, my dear. I hope you will be comfortable in it."
Phillis began to look at the pictures on the wall.
She was critical about pictures, and these did not seem very good.
"Do you like the pictures?"
"This one is out of drawing," she said, standing before a water-colour. "I like this better," moving on to the next; "but the painting is not clear."
Agatha remembered what she had paid for these pictures, and hoped the fair critic was wrong. But she was not; she was right.
And then, in her journey round the room, Phillis came to the open window, and cried aloud with surprise and astonishment.
"O Mrs. L'Estrange! is it—it——" she asked, in an awestruck voice, turning grave eyes upon her hostess, as if imploring that no mistake should be made on a matter of such importance. "Is it—really—the Thames?"
"Why, my dear, of course it is."