Gervase moved restlessly; then filling for himself a glass of
claret, drained it off thirstily.

"Something of the same kind has happened to me," he said with a
hard, mirthless laugh, "for out of the most perfect beauty I have
only succeeded in presenting an atrocity."

"Dear me!" exclaimed Lady Fulkeward. "What a disappointing day you
must have had! But of course, you will try again; the Princess
will surely give you another sitting?"

"Oh, yes! I shall certainly try again and yet again, and ever so
many times again," said Gervase, with a kind of angry obstinacy in
his tone, "the more so as she has told me I will never succeed in
painting her."

"She told you that, did she?" put in Dr. Dean, with an air of
lively interest.

"Yes."

Just then the handing round of fresh dishes and the clatter of
knives and forks effectually put a stop to the conversation for
the time, and Gervase presently glancing about him saw that Denzil
Murray and his sister were dining apart at a smaller table with
young Lord Fulkeward and Ross Courtney. Helen was looking her
fairest and best that evening--her sweet face, framed in its angel
aureole of bright hair had a singular look of pureness and truth
expressed upon it rare to find in any woman beyond her early