These closing words annoyed Lois and she longed more than ever to leave the room, especially so when Bramshaw sat down by her side and began to talk to her in a familiar manner.

“I wanted to meet you as soon as I saw you enter the room,” he told her, “and I almost despaired of obtaining an opportunity.”

“Why should you be so anxious to meet me?” Lois replied.  “I am sure that I have done nothing to merit your special attention.”

“Oh, but you are so decidedly superior to the rest, don’t you know.  I am somewhat gifted with a discerning mind, and am able at a glance to tell the gold from the dross.”

If Bramshaw imagined that his companion was susceptible to such flattery he was greatly mistaken.  His words disgusted Lois, and yet she must remember that he was Mrs. Dingle’s guest and that she must be agreeable as far as it was possible.

“You are an artist, so I understand,” she replied.

“Yes, in a way.  I am fond of observing the beautiful in the common things of Nature, and placing them upon canvas.  So many go through life with their eyes shut.  They have eyes but do not see.  With me it is different, and because of my ability to see and depict the real things of life, I have received considerable recognition.”

“That must give you satisfaction,” Lois murmured.

She tried to seem interested, but it was a difficult undertaking.

“It does in a way,” and Bramshaw assumed an air of careless indifference.  He was a little man, and his effort made him seem ridiculous.  “But, it is so seldom that one meets with kindred spirits, don’t you know.  There are so few who are able to discuss the finer points of art.  I would not mind in the least enlightening those around me, but they, as a rule, are so unwilling to listen.  With you, however, it is different.  You have a trained mind, and that makes such a vast difference.”

Lois was about to make some half-hearted reply, when her eyes rested upon the face of a girl on the opposite side of the room.  It was the most beautiful and perfect face she had ever seen, and she wondered who she was and where she had come from.  She tried to listen to what Bramshaw was saying and at the same time watch the girl before her.  She was talking to Dick, and she noted the animated expression upon her face as she smiled at something he was saying.  It must have been about her for she suddenly turned and their eyes met.  For an instant only the girl hesitated, and then with a graceful movement swept swiftly across the room and stood before Lois.

“Pardon me,” she began, as she took Lois’ hand, “I could not help coming to you as soon as I saw you.  Your brother was telling me what a hard time he had to get you away from your Church work to come to the party.  When I heard that I wanted to meet you at once.  I am Margaret Westcote, and have been in this country but a short time, and everything is so new and interesting to me.”