Let us not prolong the small-talk of the situation further, but
introduce Miss Strange as speedily as possible to Jenny also and to the
little study in 3 Zion Place.

Here her eager examination of the shelves was one succession of cries
of sympathetic delight. "Why, you have got all the books I ever want to
read again!" she exclaimed. "What wonderful people you are! How have you
done it--in Zion Place?"

"I suppose the books must have been blown here," answered Theophil,
gaily, "on the same fair wind that blew Miss Isabel Strange."

"Yes," said little Jenny, affectionately pressing her shoulder as the
three leaned forward looking at the shelves, "for if we seem wonderful
people to you, what must you seem to us--here, as you may well say, in
Zion Place?"

"What _does_ she remind you of?" said Jenny presently, with candid
admiration. "I know! Why, of course, she just _is_ the very woman.
Wait--I'll go and fetch it;" and Theophil and Isabel were thus left for
a moment or two alone,--a fact of no importance beyond this, that it was
the first moment in their lives that they had ever been together alone.

Jenny returned presently with a small copy of Botticelli's "Primavera,"
which hung in her bedroom; and it was undoubtedly true that the figure
of Flora might well have passed for a portrait of Isabel. The nose was a
little longer, that was all; but the rest of the face--particularly the
eyes and mouth--was all but exact, and the general correspondence
between the two faces in subtlety, strangeness, and, so to say,
determined refinement, was complete.