"The boy's a great artist," he muttered to himself.

His interest was now excited in good earnest; here was no common mind.

Of art Austin knew practically nothing, but the artistic instinct was evidently tingling in every vein of him.

St Aubyn himself lived for art and literature, and was amazed to have come across so curiously exceptional a personality.

He drew the boy out a little more, and then, in a moment of impulse, did a most unaccustomed thing: he invited Austin to lunch with him on the following Thursday, promising, in addition, that they should spend the afternoon together looking over his conservatories and picture-gallery.
So great an honour, so undreamt-of a privilege, sent Austin's blood to the roots of his hair.