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" He is a dear, good fellow," Jenny replied : " lives for everybody except himself, more particularly for you and me, Dolly. You must not think to get as good and de- voted a husband as Walter, but Philip Forsyth is far cleverer, and he is famous, or will be, and one day you will be Mrs. Forsyth, R.A., and perhaps Lady Forsyth who knows ? There is no end to the possible triumphs of the wife of a great artist and Philip will be great, Mr. Chet- wynd says so ; and there is no* more severe critic and perhaps none so influential he is said to have been the critical godfather of Burne Jones and Watts and Albert Moore, and several others."
" But, my dear, Watts is old enough to be his father."
" I can't help that," Jenny replied, fastening a sprig of white lilac in the bosom of her dress the white lilac from Walter's place in the country, a bunch of which had adorned the breakfast table, making a sort of little bower for the nest of plover's eggs which had formed part of the menu.
" I suppose I ought to be very unhappy," Dolly re- marked as her sister rose to leave the table, " and yet I am not."
" You don't feel things as I did," said Jenny ; " we live in a more practical age, I suppose."
" Indeed, since when ? " asked Dolly. " You are not old enough to be my mother, if Watts is old enough to be Chetwynd's father ; and sometimes I could almost imagine you to be my younger sister."
" Then you don't love Philip as I loved Walter? "
" I don't know how much you loved Walter."
"Then you are not a person of much observation," said Jenny.
" I suppose one loves a man according to how much he loves us. You seem to think Philip has neglected me already."
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