A DAY IN LONDON 295 



treading the Asphodel meadows of her youth.' My 

 friend answered, ' I daresay it is true. Let us tell her of 

 the picture we have enjoyed so much ; ' and running after 

 her she brought her back, all smiles, saying to me, ' This 

 lady is not an artist, as we thought, but the next thing 

 to it, a model, enjoying the pictures she has helped to 

 make.' Seeing she had no catalogue, we presented her 

 with ours, and left her in that undying Elysian world of 

 Art, while we slowly went down the steps with the strong 

 conviction upon us that age had not yet robbed us of 

 the power of spending a happy grey summer morning in 

 London. 



