Mills emitted an enormous cloud of smoke out of his distended cheeks.

“I daresay he was furious, too,” Blunt continued dispassionately.  “But he was extremely civil.  He showed her all the ‘treasures’ in the room, ivories, enamels, miniatures, all sorts of monstrosities from Japan, from India, from Timbuctoo . . . for all I know. . .  He pushed his condescension so far as to have the ‘Girl in the Hat’ brought down into the drawing-room—­half length, unframed.  They put her on a chair for my mother to look at.  The ’Byzantine Empress’ was already there, hung on the end wall—­full length, gold frame weighing half a ton.  My mother first overwhelms the ‘Master’ with thanks, and then absorbs herself in the adoration of the ’Girl in the Hat.’  Then she sighs out:  ’It should be called Diaphaneite, if there is such a word.  Ah!  This is the last expression of modernity!’ She puts up suddenly her face-a-main and looks towards the end wall.  ’And that—­Byzantium itself!  Who was she, this sullen and beautiful Empress?’

“‘The one I had in my mind was Theodosia!’ Allegre consented to answer.  ‘Originally a slave girl—­from somewhere.’

“My mother can be marvellously indiscreet when the whim takes her.  She finds nothing better to do than to ask the ‘Master’ why he took his inspiration for those two faces from the same model.  No doubt she was proud of her discerning eye.  It was really clever of her.  Allegre, however, looked on it as a colossal impertinence; but he answered in his silkiest tones: 

“’Perhaps it is because I saw in that woman something of the women of all time.’

“My mother might have guessed that she was on thin ice there.  She is extremely intelligent.  Moreover, she ought to have known.  But women can be miraculously dense sometimes.  So she exclaims, ’Then she is a wonder!’ And with some notion of being complimentary goes on to say that only the eyes of the discoverer of so many wonders of art could have discovered something so marvellous in life.  I suppose Allegre lost his temper altogether then; or perhaps he only wanted to pay my mother out, for all these ‘Masters’ she had been throwing at his head for the last two hours.  He insinuates with the utmost politeness: 

“’As you are honouring my poor collection with a visit you may like to judge for yourself as to the inspiration of these two pictures.  She is upstairs changing her dress after our morning ride.  But she wouldn’t be very long.  She might be a little surprised at first to be called down like this, but with a few words of preparation and purely as a matter of art . . .’

“There were never two people more taken aback.  Versoy himself confesses that he dropped his tall hat with a crash.  I am a dutiful son, I hope, but I must say I should have liked to have seen the retreat down the great staircase.  Ha!  Ha!  Ha!”

He laughed most undutifully and then his face twitched grimly.