the studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

Basil was stood lean. He painted strokes with his brush, the honey tinted sun rays flooding into the studio and landing on his subject. It lightly smelt of lit cigarettes due to Lord Henry Wotton being sat at the back of the studio observing the scene.