There one afternoon in May as we marched about enjoying ourselves, we came upon Ingersoll Armour, not in the flesh, but in half a dozen studies hanging in the least conspicuous corner and quite the worst light in the room.
'Eh, what ?' said I, and Dora exclaimed: 'I SAY!' 'Sent out from home,' I said, ever the oracle.
'Not at all,' replied Dora.

'Look, they are Indian subjects.

SIMLA subjects,' she went on, with excitement.
I turned up the catalogue.

'Ninety-seven, "Kasumti Bazaar"; ninety-eight, "Clouds on the Chor"; ninety-nine, "The House of a Friend"-- Lord, what apricot blossoms! Yes, they're all Simla.' 'For goodness' sake,' said Dora, 'who painted them?
You've got the catalogue!' '"I.

Armour,"' I read.
'"I.