’I do not, my lord.  I suppose she picked ’em up by her wits.’

‘Never mind what you suppose,’ said the old man impatiently.  ’Whenever I ask a question of you tell me what you know, and no more.’

‘Quite so, my lord.  I beg your lordship’s pardon for supposing.’

‘H’m-h’m.  Have the fashion-books and plates arrived yet?’

‘Le Follet has, my lord; but not the others.’

’Let me have it at once.  Always bring it to me at once.  Are there any handsome ones this time?’

‘They are much the same class of female as usual, I think, my lord,’ said Tipman, fetching the paper and laying it before him.

‘Yes, they are,’ said the viscount, leaning back and scrutinizing the faces of the women one by one, and talking softly to himself in a way that had grown upon him as his age increased.  ’Yet they are very well:  that one with her shoulder turned is pure and charming—­the brown-haired one will pass.  All very harmless and innocent, but without character; no soul, or inspiration, or eloquence of eye.  What an eye was hers!  There is not a girl among them so beautiful. . . .  Tipman!  Come and take it away.  I don’t think I will subscribe to these papers any longer—­how long have I subscribed?  Never mind—­I take no interest in these things, and I suppose I must give them up.  What white article is that I see on the floor yonder?’

‘I can see nothing, my lord.’

’Yes, yes, you can.  At the other end of the room.  It is a white handkerchief.  Bring it to me.’

’I beg pardon, my lord, but I cannot see any white handkerchief.  Whereabouts does your lordship mean?’

’There in the corner.  If it is not a handkerchief, what is it?  Walk along till you come to it—­that is it; now a little further—­now your foot is against it.’

’O that—­it is not anything.  It is the light reflected against the skirting, so that it looks like a white patch of something—­that is all.’

’H’m-hm.  My eyes—­how weak they are!  I am getting old, that’s what it is:  I am an old man.’

‘O no, my lord.’

‘Yes, an old man.’

’Well, we shall all be old some day, and so will your lordship, I suppose; but as yet—­’

‘I tell you I am an old man!’

’Yes, my lord—­I did not mean to contradict.  An old man in one sense—­old in a young man’s sense, but not in a house-of-parliament or historical sense.  A little oldish—­I meant that, my lord.’

’I may be an old man in one sense or in another sense in your mind; but let me tell you there are men older than I—­’

‘Yes, so there are, my lord.’

’People may call me what they please, and you may be impertinent enough to repeat to me what they say, but let me tell you I am not a very old man after all.  I am not an old man.’

‘Old in knowledge of the world I meant, my lord, not in years.’