But even his pictures will

"There's a clever man in London called John who paints everso much better than the old masters," Mrs. Flushing continued. 　　"His pictures excite me--nothin' that's old excites me.""But even his pictures will become old," Mrs. Thornbury intervened. 　　"Then I'll have 'em burnt, or I'll put it in my will," said Mrs. Flushing. 　　"And Mrs. Flushing lived in one of the most beautiful old housesin England--Chillingley," Mrs. Thornbury explained to the restof them. 　　"If I'd my way I'd burn that to-morrow," Mrs. Flushing laughed. 　　She had a laugh like the cry of a jay, at once startling and joyless. 　　"What does any sane person want with those great big houses?"she demanded. "If you go downstairs after dark you're coveredwith black beetles, and the electric lights always goin' out. 　　What would you do if spiders came out of the tap when you turnedon the hot water?" she demanded, fixing her eye on Helen. 　　Mrs. Ambrose shrugged her shoulders with a smile. 　　"This is what I like," said Mrs. Flushing. She jerked her head atthe Villa. "A little house in a garden. I had one once in Ireland. 　　One could lie in bed in the mornin' and pick roses outside the windowwith one's toes.""And the gardeners, weren't they surprised?" Mrs. Thornbury enquired. 　　"There were no gardeners," Mrs. Flushing chuckled. "Nobody but meand an old woman without any teeth. You know the poor in Irelandlose their teeth after they're twenty. But you wouldn't expecta politician to understand that--Arthur Balfour wouldn't understand that."Ridley sighed that he never expected any one to understand anything,least of all politicians.