'
She consented, and on the following afternoon I called at my aunt's
house in Belgrave Square. The hall was full of portmanteaux, boxes,
and packages. Sleaford had already arrived, and was waiting with
stolid patience for my mother, who had gone to her room to dress. He
began to talk to me about the astonishing gifts of Cyril Aylwin.
'Have you made an appointment with Wilderspin?' I said to my mother,
when she entered the room. 'The last time I saw him he seemed to be
much occupied with some disturbing affairs of his own.'
'Appointment? No,' said she, with an air that seemed to imply that an
Aylwin, even with Gypsy blood in his veins, in calling upon Art, was
conferring upon it a favour to be welcomed at any time.
'I have not seen this portrait yet,' said Sleaford, as the carriage
moved off; 'but Cyril Aylwin says it is magnificent, and if anybody
knows what's good and what's bad it's Cyril Aylwin.'
'Do you know,' said my mother to me, 'I have taken vastly to this
eccentric kinsman of ours? I had really no idea that a bohemian could
be so much like a gentleman; but, of course, an Aylwin must always be
an Aylwin.
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