Hilary was gazing into the frog-like countenance of his youngest son.  It gave him a disappointment ever new, that Illuminato should be so plain.  “But your mother’s handsome, frog,” he murmured, “and I’m not worse than my neighbours to look at.” (But he knew he was better than most of them).  “Let’s hope you have intellect to make up.  Now crawl to your uncle Peter, since you want to.”

Illuminato did want to.  He adored his uncle Peter.

“The Gem, Peter?” said Hilary.  “Bother the Gem.  As Peggy remarks, it’s very dull, and you won’t like it.  I don’t know that I want you to read it, to say the truth.”

Peter was in the act of doing so.  He had found three torn pages of it on the floor.  He was reading an article called “Osele.”  Hilary glanced at it, with the slight nervous frown frequent with him.

“What have you got hold of?...  Oh, that.”  His frown seemed to relax a little.  “I really don’t recommend the thing for your entertainment, Peter.  It’ll bore you.  I have to provide two things—­food for the interested visitor, and guidance for Lord Evelyn’s mania for purchasing.”

“So I am gathering,” Peter said.  “I’m reading about osele, marked with the Mocenigo rose.  Signor Antonio Sardi seems to be a man worth a visit.  I must take Leslie there.  That’s just the sort of thing he likes.  And sixteenth-century visiting cards.  Yes, he’d like those too.  By all means we’ll go to your friend Sardi.  You wrote this, I suppose?”

Hilary nodded.  His white nervous fingers played on the arm of his chair.  It seemed to be something of an ordeal to him, this first introduction of Peter to the Gem.

Peggy, assisting Teresina to bundle the crockery off the table, shot a swift glance at the group—­at Hilary lying back smoking, with slightly knitted forehead, one unsteady hand playing on his chair; at Peter sitting on the marble floor with the torn fragments of paper in his hands and Illuminato astride on his knee.  Peggy’s grey, Irish eyes were at the moment a little speculative, touched with a dispassionate curiosity and a good deal of sisterly and wifely and maternal and slightly compassionate affection.  She was so fond of them all, the dear babes.

Peter had gone on from osele to ivory plaques.  He was not quite so much interested in reading about them because he knew more about them for himself, but he took down the name of a dealer who had, according to the Gem, some good specimens, and said he should take Leslie there too.

Hilary got up rather suddenly, and jerked his cigar away into a corner (marble floors are useful in some ways) and said, “Is Leslie going to buy the whole place up?  I’m sick of these wealthy Jews.  They’re ruining Venice.  Buying all the palaces, you know.  I suppose Leslie’ll be wanting to do that next.  There’s altogether too much buying in this forsaken world.  Why can’t people admire without wanting to acquire?  Lord Evelyn can’t.  The squandering old fool; he’s ruining himself over things he’s too blind even to look at properly.  And this Leslie of yours, who can’t even appreciate, still must get and have, of course; and the more he gets the more he wants.  Can’t you stop him, Peter?  It’s such a monstrous exhibition of the vice of the age.”