that Mr.
Sherringham was quite right to offer Miss Rooth an afternoon's sport;
she deserved it as a fine, brave, amiable girl. She was highly educated,
knew a dozen languages, was of illustrious lineage, and was immensely
particular.

"Immensely particular?" Mrs. Dallow repeated.

"Perhaps I should say rather that her mother's so on her behalf.
Particular about the sort of people they meet--the tone, the standard.
I'm bound to say they're like _you_: they don't go everywhere. That
spirit's not so common in the mob calling itself good society as not to
deserve mention."

She said nothing for a moment; she looked vaguely round the room, but
not at Miriam Rooth. Nevertheless she presently dropped as in forced
reference to her an impatient shake. "She's dreadfully vulgar."

"Ah don't say that to my friend Dormer!" Mr. Nash laughed.

"Are you and he such great friends?" Mrs. Dallow asked, meeting his
eyes.

"Great enough to make me hope we shall be greater."

Again for a little she said nothing, but then went on: "Why shouldn't I
say to him that she's vulgar?"

"Because he admires her so much. He wants to paint her."

"To paint her?"

"To paint her portrait."

"Oh I see. I daresay she'd do for that."

Mr. Nash showed further amusement. "If that's your opinion of her you're
not very complimentary to the art he aspires to practise."

"He aspires to practise?" she echoed afresh.

"Haven't you talked with him about it? Ah you must keep him up to it!"

Julia Dallow was conscious for a moment of looking uncomfortable; but it
relieved her to be able to demand of her neighbour with a certain
manner: "Are you an artist?"

"I try to be," Nash smiled, "but I work in such difficult material."

He spoke this with such a clever suggestion of mysterious things that
she was to hear herself once more pay him the attention of taking him
up. "Difficult material?"

"I work in life!"

At this she turned away, leaving him the impression that she probably
misunderstood his speech, thinking he meant that he drew from the living
model or some such platitude: as if there could have been any likelihood
he would have dealings with the dead. This indeed would not fully have
explained the abruptness with which she dropped their conversation.
Gabriel, however, was used to sudden collapses and even to sudden
ruptures on the part of those addressed by him, and no man had more the
secret of remaining gracefully with his conversationa