Some people like chromo-lithographs, others don't.

But even those who do are apt to become estranged.

They may inspire love, admiration, but never fidelity.
Most of us have in our time hammered nails into our walls which, though they now decorously support the engravings and etchings of our maturer years, were nevertheless originally driven in to uphold the cherished, the long since discarded chromos of our foolish youth.
The diamond sun upon Lady Newhaven's breast quivered a little, a very little, as Hugh greeted her, and she turned to offer the same small smile and gloved hand to the next comer, whose name was leaping before him from one footman to another.
"Mr.Richard Vernon." Lady Newhaven's wide blue eyes looked vague.

Her hand hesitated.

This strongly built, ill-dressed man, with his keen, brown, deeply scarred face and crooked mouth, was unknown to her.
Lord Newhaven darted forward.
"Dick!" he exclaimed, and Dick shot forth an immense mahogany hand and shook Lord Newhaven's warmly.
"Well," he said, after Lord Newhaven had introduced him to his wife, "I'm dashed if I knew who either of you were.