Smithson was not
accustomed, and which charmed him accordingly. Young women usually threw
themselves at his head, as it were; but here was a girl who talked to
him as indifferently as if he were a tradesman offering his wares.
'What a dreadfully practical person you are?' he exclaimed. 'What is the
use of crossing Piccadilly? Well, in the first place, you will make me
ineffably happy. But perhaps that doesn't count. In the second place, I
shall be able to show you some rather good pictures of the French
school--'
'I hate the French school!' interjected Lesbia. 'Tricky, flashy, chalky,
shallow, smelling of the footlights and the studio.'
'Well, sink the pictures. You will meet some very charming people,
belonging to that artist world which is not to be met everywhere.'
'I will go to Park Lane to meet your people, if Lady Kirkbank likes to
take me,' said Lesbia; and with this answer Mr. Smithson was bound to be
content.
'My pet, if you had made it the study of your life how to treat that man
you could not do it better,' said Lady Kirkbank, when they were driving
along the dusty road between dusty hedges and dusty trees, past that
last remnant of country which was daily being debased into London.
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