"They do--in more ways than one. Is that colour scheme intentional, do
you think?"

Mrs. Stephen's glance followed his as it dwelt upon the group. "I hadn't
noticed," she admitted, "but I see it now; it's perfect. And I've no
doubt Ruth thought it out. She's quite a wonderful eye for colour, and
she worships Rob and likes to dress so as to offset her--always giving
Rob the advantage--though of course she would have that, anyway, by
virtue of her own colouring."

"Blue and corn-colour--should you call it?--and gold. Dull tints in the
background, and the candle-light on Miss Ruth's hair and her sister's
cheek. It makes the prettiest picture yet in my new collection of family
groups."

Mrs. Stephen looked at him curiously. "Are you making a collection of
family groups?" she inquired. "Beginning away back with your first
memories?"

"My first memories are not of family groups--only of nurses and tutors,
with occasional portraits of my grandfather making inquiries as to how I
was getting on. And my later memories are all of school and
college--then of travel. Not a home scene among them."

"You poor boy!" There was something maternal in Mrs. Stephen's tone,
though she looked considerably younger than the object of her pity. "But
you must have looked at plenty of other family groups, if you had none
of your own."

"That's exactly what I haven't done."