Lord Findon laughed.

He had restrained himself so far with difficulty while these two romanced; and now, bursting with his tidings, he laid a hand on Fenwick:-- 'Look here, young man--we didn't come just on the loose--to bother you.

Have you heard-- ?' Fenwick made a startled movement.
'Heard what ?' 'Why, that your two pictures are _accepted_!--and will be admirably hung--both on the line, and one in the big room.' The colour rushed again into Fenwick's cheeks.
'Are you sure ?' he stammered, looking from one to the other.
Lord Findon gave his authority, and then Eugenie held out her hand.
'We _are_ so glad!' She had thrown back the gauze veil in which she had shrouded herself during her drive with her father, and her charming face--still so pale!--shone in sympathy.
Fenwick awkwardly accepted her congratulation, and shook the proffered hand.
'I expect it's your doing,' he said, abruptly.
'Not in the least!' cried Lord Findon.

His eye twinkled.

'My dear fellow, what are you thinking of?
These are the days of merit, and publicity!--when every man comes to his own.' Fenwick grinned a little.