a distant sofa. Which digression is needed to understand the continuation of Lord Robert's dialogue with Elizabeth.
"You must come to London," he was saying, in his slightly dictatorial, but yet perfectly well-bred way; "you really must come, before the session is over, and have tea with me on the terrace—or, better still, dinner some evening when we expect a good debate. I think I could make a convert of you."
Elizabeth smiled. "You had better try with Miss Palliser. I suspect she would be more easily converted. She would probably know many of the speakers. I know no one."
"You would know me. And the knowledge of your presence would fire me to speak my very best. Miss Palliser's presence would have no effect on me whatever—any more than a bust of Venus would."
"Are you not an admirer of beauty? What a loss for you!"
"Not beauty of that kind—rule-and-measure beauty. I like expression—character."
Colonel Wybrowe was playing at bezique a little distance off. The lamplight fell on his classic profile—the one that did not show the cast in his eye. He was animated; he smiled at his antagonist; his fingers played with his fair moustache. Elizabeth, with her small knowledge of mankind, was foolish enough to say—
"There can be regularity of feature and expression also, as in Colonel Wybrowe's head."
"Humph! You are painting him? Know the nickname I gave him?—'The Splendid Shilling.' Read the
