Madame de Pastourelles, feeling that for the moment she also had come to the end of her tether, fell into a reverie, from which she was presently roused by finding Fenwick standing before her, palette in hand.
'I don't want you to think me an envious brute,' he said, stammering.
'Of course, I know the "Polyxena" is a fine thing--a very fine thing.' She looked a little surprised--as though he offered her moods to which she had no key.

'Shall I show you something I like much better ?' she said, with quick resource.

And drawing towards her a small portfolio she had brought with her, she took out a drawing and handed it to him.
'I am taking it to be framed.

Isn't it beautiful ?' It was a drawing, in silver-point, of an orange-tree in mingled fruit and bloom--an exquisite piece of work, of a Japanese truth, intricacy, and perfection.

Fenwick looked at it in silence.