CHAPTER XI.
"A LITTLE EGOTISTICAL, PERHAPS" We always like those who admire us, but do not always like those whom we admire.
-- LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.
Trifles make perfection, and perfection is no trifle.
-- MICHAEL ANGELO.
The bedrooms at the Wood House opened on a wide corridor which extended the whole length of the house.

It was known by the name of the Red Gallery, probably from the great stained-glass window through which the sunset glow filtered on summer evenings, and reflected purple and crimson stains on the tessellated pavement of the hall below.

By some odd coincidence, a figure of the Thuringian queen St.Elizabeth was the subject of the window.

Something in the figure and the pose of the crowned head of the saint reminded Malcolm of Elizabeth Templeton; but the meek beauty of the upturned face resembled Dinah.
The gallery was carpeted, and comfortably furnished with easy-chairs and one or two oak settles; the walls were covered with pictures.

On winter afternoons, when a great beech log burnt cheerily in the fireplace, it must have been a pleasant place for a twilight gossip before dressing for dinner.