Armour's broad brush stood out all over them.

They were mostly Indian sporting subjects, the incident a trifle elliptical, the drawing unequal, but the verve and feeling unmistakeable, and colour to send a quiver of glorious acquiescence through you like a pang.

What astonished me was the number of them; there must have been at least a dozen, all the same size and shape, all hanging in a line of dazzling repetition.

Here then was the explanation of Armour's seeming curious lack of output, and plain denial of the supposition that he spent the whole of his time in doing the little wooden 'pochade' things whose sweetness and delicacy had so feasted our eyes elsewhere.

It was part, no doubt, of his absolutely uncommercial nature--we had experienced together passages of the keenest embarrassment over my purchase of some of his studies--that he had not mentioned these more serious things exposed at Kauffer's; one had the feeling of coming unexpectedly on treasure left upon the wayside and forgotten.
'Hullo!' I said, at a standstill, 'I see you've got some of Mr.Armour's work there.' Mr.Kauffer, with his hands behind him, made the sound which has its counterpart in a shrug.