His faculties collected at last, he turned to the door, and met the cautious face of his butler.
"A lady, sir," said the man, prepared to be damned from the room. He was relieved when his master said: "Show her in."
But the lady, having no intention of being turned away, was close behind. "Very wise of you," she said, entering even as he spoke. "Because I meant to come in anyway, Stephen."
"Oh, it's you, Lydia?" asked Ellis, darting a look before which the butler retired. "What brings you?"
Mrs. Harmon unwound the long scarf from her neck, and stood before him smiling. "An errand of mercy, to comfort the broken-hearted. Come, don't scowl." She unbuckled her cloak, swung it from her shoulders, and tossed it on a chair. "There, how do you like me?"
In spite of his mood he caught his breath. For she was dressed in black and adorned with pearls; the dress was cut so low that it more than suggested the charms which it concealed. And those which it revealed were perfect: the full and rosy throat, the shoulders, and the arms. The pearls set off the blackness of the dress, and took to themselves the warmth of her skin. For a moment Ellis looked at her with pleasure, then he recovered himself.
"Full mourning, I see," he grunted.
"Don't be disagreeable," she returned. "It's my best and newest. Come, say I never looked so well before."
"You never did," he agreed. Always Lydia had dressed, he reflected, as much as she dared; now that she was free she evidently intended to go the limit. "It certainly becomes you," he added.