did such a thing without a great inducement. So she remained standing there, as if she were quitting the place in a moment, which indeed she now determined to do; and her interlocutor, rising also, lingered beside her, unencouraged but unperturbed. He went on to remark that Mr. Sherringham was quite right to offer Miss Rooth an afternoon's sport; she deserved it as a fine, brave, amiable girl. She was highly educated, knew a dozen languages, was of illustrious lineage and was immensely particular.
"Immensely particular?" Mrs. Dallow repeated.
"Perhaps I should say that her mother is, on her behalf. Particular about the sort of people they meet—the tone, the standard. I'm bound to say they're like you: they don't go everywhere. That spirit is meritorious; it should be recognized and rewarded."
Mrs. Dallow said nothing for a moment; she looked vaguely round the room, but not at Miriam Rooth. Nevertheless she presently dropped, in allusion to her, the words: "She's dreadfully vulgar."
"Ah, don't say that to my friend Dormer!" Gabriel Nash exclaimed.
"Are you and he such great friends?" Mrs. Dallow asked, looking at him.
"Great enough to make me hope we shall be greater."
Again, for a moment, she said nothing; then she went on—"Why shouldn't I say to him that she's vulgar?"
"Because he admires her so much; he wants to paint her."
"To paint her?"
"To paint her portrait."
