Cecilia drew herself up. "Oh, do you think so?" she said.

"I was just talking to Mr. Balladyce. He says that Art and Literature
must be put on a new basis altogether."

"Yes," said Cecilia; "really? Is he that funny little man?"

"I think he's so monstrously clever."

Cecilia answered quickly: "I know--I know. Of course, something must be
done."

"Yes," said Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace absently, "I think we all
feel that. Oh, do tell me! I've been talking to such a delightful
person--just the type you see when you go into the City--thousands of
them, all in such good black coats. It's so unusual to really meet one
nowadays; and they're so refreshing, they have such nice simple views.
There he is, standing just behind your sister."

Cecilia by a nervous gesture indicated that she recognized the
personality alluded to. "Oh, yes," she said; "Mr. Purcey. I don't know
why he comes to see us."

"I think he's so delicious!" said Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace dreamily. Her
little dark eyes, like bees, had flown to sip honey from the flower
in question--a man of broad build and medium height, dressed.
with accuracy, who seemed just a little out of his proper bed. His
mustachioed mouth wore a set smile; his cheerful face was rather red,
with a forehead of no extravagant height or breadth, and a conspicuous
jaw; his hair was thick and light in colour, and his eyes were small,