"Oh! well, as personified in you it's a not unwholesome astringent. But
we may take an overdose."

"Depends on the capacity of the constitution, of course," said Morewood.

"One objectionable quality it has," pursued Sir Roderick, apparently
unheedful.

"Yes?"

"A disposition toward what boys call 'scoring.' That will, no doubt, be
eradicated as it rises more in society. _Apropos_, what are you doing
down here?"

"As an artist, I study your insolence professionally, Ayre, and it
doesn't annoy me. I came down here to do nothing. I have stayed to paint
Stafford."

"Ah! is Stafford then a professional saint?"

"He's an uncommon fine fellow. You're not fit to black his boots."

"I am not fit to black anybody's boots," responded Sir Roderick. "It's
the other way. What's he doing down here?"

"I don't know. Says he's writing a book. Do you know Lady Claudia well?"

"Yes. Known her since she was a child."