at them?"

Montague would have liked to look at them very much; but he felt
that he would rather it were some time when he did not have Mrs.
Winnie by his side. Mrs. Winnie must have had to show the gallery
quite frequently; and now her mind was still upon the Persian
transcendentalists.

"That picture of the saint is a Botticelli," she said. "And do you
know, the orange-coloured robe always makes me think of the swami.
That is my teacher, you know--Swami Babubanana. And he has the most
beautiful delicate hands, and great big brown eyes, so soft and
gentle--for all the world like those of the gazelles in our place
down South!"

Thus Mrs. Winnie, as she roamed from picture to picture, while the
souls of the grave old masters looked down upon her in silence.






CHAPTER VI





Montague had now been officially pronounced complete by his tailor;