“Our little encounters almost assume the air of appointments,” she said. “This is very nice, but I am just going away, I am sorry to say. I wonder—” she paused a moment, and then looked at Fräulein Hirsch pleasantly; “I wonder if, in about an hour, you would bring Miss Gareth-Lawless to me to have tea and tell me if she thinks Hélène will like her new rooms. You said you would like to see them,” brightly to Robin.
“You are very kind. I should like it so much,” was Robin’s answer.
Fräulein Hirsch was correctly appreciative of the condescension shown to her. Her manner was the perfection of the exact shade of unobtrusive chaperonship. There was no improper suggestion of a mistaken idea that she was herself a guest, or, indeed, anything, in fact, but a proper appendage to her charge. Robin had never been fond of Fräulein as she was fond of Mademoiselle and Dowie, still she was not only an efficient teacher, but also a good walker and very fond of long tramps, which Mademoiselle was really not strong enough for, but which Robin’s slender young legs rejoiced in.
The two never took cabs or buses, but always walked everywhere. They walked on this occasion, and, about an hour later, arrived at a large, corner house in Berford Place. A tall and magnificently built footman opened the door for them, and they were handed into a drawing room much grander than the one Robin sometimes glanced into as she passed it, when she was at home. A quite beautiful tea equipage awaited them on a small table, but Lady Etynge was not in the room.
“What a beautiful house to live in,” said Robin, “but, do you know, the number isn’t 97 A. I looked as we came in, and it is No. 25.”
“Is it? I ought to have been more careful,” answered Fräulein Hirsch. “It is wrong to be careless even in small matters.”
Almost immediately Lady Etynge came in and greeted them, with a sort of gentle delight. She drew Robin down on to a sofa beside her and took her hand and gave it a light pat which was a caress.
“Now you really are here,” she said, “I have been so busy that I have been afraid I should not have time to show you the rooms before it was too late to make a change, if you thought anything might be improved.”
“I am sure nothing can improve them,” said Robin, more dewy-eyed than usual and even a thought breathless, because this was really a sort of adventure, and she longed to ask if, by any chance, she would “do.” And she was so afraid that she might lose this amazingly good opportunity, merely because she was too young and inexperienced to know how she ought to broach the subject. She had not thought yet of asking Mademoiselle Vallé how it should be done.
She was not aware that she looked at Lady Etynge with a heavenly, little unconscious appeal, which made her enchanting. Lady Etynge looked at her quite fixedly for an instant.