” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. . He turned to observe what this object was that had so unexpectedly diverted the young man's attention. Smiling, the Chinaman gave the correct pronunciation. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. Sir John felt hot and furious. “Not a bit of it,” he said; “it’s only a score in a game. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. We have to hang about in the interval.
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