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"And now," Rosina declared, as they reached Piccadilly again, after having traversed both sides of Bond Street, "I am going to redeem myself a little. Come along."

She took them to the National Gallery, and again her selective instinct was almost as true as her perception for the slighter things. She revelled in many of the pictures and much of the statuary, Philip sharing to some extent her enthusiasm. She was frankly indifferent to some of the world's masterpieces, but she made no mistake in what really appealed to her. Their visit was cut short owing to Matthew's impatience. She passed her arm through his as they stood upon the steps, looking down over Trafalgar Square.

"Matthew dear," she said, "if this is boring you, I'm sorry, but I somehow feel that to-day is going to be a very important day for all of us. We have grown up together, we three. We have suffered together. This is our first day of freedom. We are all going to strike out along different paths, and I feel that, unless we understand one another, we may very soon drift a long way apart. I suppose I'm terribly frivolous because the greatest passion I feel, just now, is the love of beautiful things, but I'm trying to show you—it isn't for the body only—there's the mind and the soul, too. Come, we're going down on the Embankment now. I want to sit and look at Westminster Abbey, and see the tugs go down the river under the bridges."