Her voice was like a chime of contralto bells. It made him think of Bernhardt. It imparted to the commonplaces she uttered a quite disproportionate intensity of drama and tragic depth. The way in which she had said, "Oh, no," reverberated in his memory as though the sound still lingered on the air.
"I don't know at all," he commenced. Then he smiled at his confusion. "You see I'm not used to answering doors, and Mrs. Lockwood's not quite herself. She was very tired just now. But if you'll give me your name, I'll——"
If he'd been left to himself, he might have succeeded in creating the impression that he was Mai
sie's physician. As it was, his conscience was spared the deception by the advent of the inevitable Porter. She sailed up behind him with an appearance so immaculate that it would have shed propriety on the most compromising circumstances. He instantly stood aside to make room for her. "Porter, here's a lady enquiring for——"
But the lady took matters into her own hands. "Mrs. Lockwood in, Porter?"
"Why, certainly, your Ladyship."
"Then why was I shut out? Who is this gentleman who——"
The rest was lost as their voices sank. The next words he caught were her Ladyship's, running up the scale of laughter. "Then I'm not de trop! That's a blessing!"
He fell back, trying to obliterate himself, as with every sign of deference Porter admitted her; but in crossing the hall, she had to pass him. Scarcely pausing, she swept him with a pair of stone-gray eyes, made mischievous for the moment with merriment. "You're no good as a butler," she whispered. "You carry discretion too far."
To his chagrin he recognized her—the one woman whom he would most have chosen to have met in an attitude that was dignified. She entered the drawing-room and was lost to sight. But she had left the door ajar and he heard Maisie's delighted exclamation, "Why, Di, what brings you here so late? This is darling of you!" His position was elaborately false. It grew more false every minute he delayed. He foresaw himself apologizing and being