"Ah, I suppose you were here before, when it was a chamber of horrors," said Poppy coolly. "I never saw a more impossible place in my life."
He looked at her curiously as though greatly surprised. Then he said carelessly, and rather curtly she thought:
"Oh, yes, I have been here before."
He sat down in one of the easy chairs and Poppy began to put in order some books that had fallen from the book-case on to the floor. When she turned she found him still staring at her in that curious fashion, but without his smile. She missed it because it was a singularly heart-warming smile.
"The last people here were rather addicted to antimacassars and glass-shades and things," she said, appearing not to notice his curious look; "and as it seemed to me a pity to let such things spoil a pretty room, I put them out."
"Oh!" was all he vouchsafed. She felt chilled. But here Sophie burst into the room, very magnificent and highly coloured.
"How sweet of you to come, Mr. Bramham," one hand up to her hair and the other outstretched, while her body performed the Grecian bend.
"Rosalind, do see about tea, there's a dear. I'm sure Mr. Bramham must be parched."
Correctly estimating this as a hint to leave them alone, Poppy retreated to the kitchen, and did not reappear until she followed Piccanin in with the tea-tray. Sophie was saying, "Do bring him around, Mr. Bramham. We should just love to meet him."
Poppy, arranging the cups on the table, had a pardonable curiosity to know whom she should just love to meet; but she made no remark; merely sat down.