Page:Henry Northcote (IA henrynorthcote00snairich).pdf/354

 translated into the grace of physical perfection had an all-conquering attraction for his nature. Every blemish upon her, and as she lay back in the shadow of the lamp they appeared surprisingly few, were additions to her value. They were so many receipted acknowledgments of the heavy sums she had paid for what she possessed. There was a short but deep scar over one eye. There was a suggestion of coarseness in her jaw; her bust looked a little too full.

"What shall I call you?" said the young advocate with shining eyes. "Shall I call you Diomeda?"

"Do, my beloved Achilles!"

"How do you come to have heard about him? Is it that Greek is compulsory in the University of the Gutter?"

"Achilles was perfectly familiar to me before I attended it. My dear father used to tell us stories from Homer when he was drunk."

"Well, Diomeda, I have come to believe that your father must have been a very remarkable man."

"The world will arrive at a similar belief two hundred years hence. But how can you have acquired such an important piece of information concerning him when you have never seen one of his works?"

"Do not forget that for the past hour I have been gazing upon his chef-d'œuvre, the masterpiece among his masterpieces."

"On the contrary, my beloved, you are judging him by his one great failure. In conception, in design, I have no peer in this time of ours, but the