“But, Mr. Palma, you never loved any one or anything so very dearly, that it seemed holy in your eyes; much too sacred for others to look at.”

“Certainly not.  I am pleased to say that is a mild stage of lunacy, with which I have as yet never been threatened.  Idolatry is a phase of human weakness I have been unable to tolerate.”

He saw a faint smile lurking about the perfect curves of her rosy mouth, but her eyes remained fixed on the picture.

“I should be glad to know what you find so amusing in my remark.”

She shook her head, but the obstinate dimples reappeared.

“What are you smiling at?”

“At the assertion that you cannot tolerate idolatry.”

“Well?  Of all the men in New York, probably I am the most thoroughly an iconoclast.”

“Yes, sir, of other people’s gods; nevertheless, I think you worship ardently.”

“Indeed!  Have you recently joined the ‘Microscopical Society’?  I solicit the benefit of your discoveries, and shall be duly grateful if you will graciously point out the unknown fane wherein I secretly worship.  Is it Beauty?  Genius?  Riches?”

“It is not done in secret.  All the world knows that Mr. Palma imitates the example of Marcus Marcellus, and dedicates his life to two divinities.”

Standing on either side of the gate, and each pressing a hand upon the slab of the mantle, the lawyer looked curiously down at the bright young face.

“You are quite fresh in foraging from historic fields,—­and since I quitted the classic shade of Alma Mater I have had little leisure for Roman lore; but college memories suggest that it was to Honour and Valour that Marcellus erected the splendid double temple at the Capene Gate.  I bow to your parallel, and gratefully appreciate your ingeniously delicate compliment.”

He laughed sarcastically as he interpreted the protest very legible in her clear honest eyes, and waited a moment for her to disclaim the flattery.  But she was silently smiling up at her mother’s face.

“Does my very observant ward approve of my homage to the Roman deities?”

“Are your favourite divinities those before whom Marcellus bent his knee?”

Very steadily her large eyes, blue as the border of a clematis, were turned to meet his, and involuntarily he took his under lip between his glittering teeth.

“My testimony would not be admissible before the bar, at which I have been arraigned.  Since you have explored the Holy of Holies, be so kind as to describe what you find.”

“You might consider me presumptuous, possibly impertinent.”

“At least I may safely promise not to express any such opinion.  What is there, think you, that Erle Palma worships?”

“A statue of Ambition that stands in the vestibule of the temple of Fame.”

“Olga told you that.”

“Oh no, sir!  Have not I lived here a year?”