one way towards the picture room; this end wall is all window; You've a
southeast light from that, a north light from the court. The rest of
your pictures you can hang round the gallery upstairs, or in the other
rooms." "In architecture," he went on--and though looking at Soames he
did not seem to see him, which gave Soames an unpleasant feeling--"as in
life, you'll get no self-respect without regularity. Fellows tell you
that's old fashioned. It appears to be peculiar any way; it never occurs
to us to embody the main principle of life in our buildings; we load our
houses with decoration, gimcracks, corners, anything to distract the eye.
On the contrary the eye should rest; get your effects with a few strong
lines. The whole thing is regularity there's no self-respect without
it."

Soames, the unconscious ironist, fixed his gaze on Bosinney's tie, which
was far from being in the perpendicular; he was unshaven too, and his
dress not remarkable for order. Architecture appeared to have exhausted
his regularity.

"Won't it look like a barrack?" he inquired.

He did not at once receive a reply.

"I can see what it is," said Bosinney, "you want one of Littlemaster's
houses--one of the pretty and commodious sort, where the servants will
live in garrets, and the front door be sunk so that you may come up
again. By all means try Littlemaster, you'll find him a capital fellow,
I've known him all my life!"

Soames was alarmed. He had really been struck by the plans, and the
concealment of his satisfaction had been merely instinctive. It was
difficult for him to pay a compliment. He despised people who were
lavish with their praises.

He found himself now in the embarrassing position of one who must pay a
compliment or run the risk of losing a good thing. Bosinney was just the
fellow who might tear up the plans and refuse to act for him; a kind of
grown-up child!

This grown-up childishness, to which he felt so superior, exercised a
peculiar and almost mesmeric effect on Soames, for he had never felt
anything like it in himself.

"Well," he stammered at last, "it's--it's, certainly original."

He had such a private distrust and even dislike of the word 'original'
that he felt he had not really given himself away by this remark.

Bosinney seemed pleased. It was the sort of thing that would please a
fellow like that! And his success encouraged Soames.

"It's--a big place," he said.

"Space, air, light," he