Upon its walls was a choice
collection of pictures of various styles and schools of art, some of
them unquestionably of much value. At one end of the room stood a closed
grand piano. But, like the grandfather's room, the place could not by
any stretch of the imagination be called homelike, and to this fact
Rosamond called her companion's attention.
"It's really very interesting," said she, "and quite impressive, but I
don't wonder in the least at his saying that he had no home. This might
be a room in a fine hotel; there's nothing to make you feel as if
anybody really lives here, in spite of the beautiful paintings. But Mr.
Kendrick said the portraits were in the second room."
On her way into the second room, however, Rosamond's attention was
attracted by a picture beside the door opening thereto, and with an
exclamation, "Oh, this looks like Gordon! Where did he get it?" she
paused. Roberta glanced that way, but a quite different object in the
inner room had caught her eye, and leaving Rosamond to her wonder over a
rather remarkable resemblance to her own little son in the rarely
exquisite colour-drawing of a child of similar age, she went on, to
stand still in the doorway, surprised out of all restraint as to the use
of her interested eyes.
Pages:
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349