The door of the outer office was standing open, as usual when he was still at work in his room. She knew the secret catch that opened the wooden rail of partition, and passed through. She knocked cautiously at the further door. To-day it was shut, which was not usual.
He said, "Come in."
She went in, and stood face to face--with his mother.
This was the first time she had ever seen her. She was quite different from what she had expected. Instead of the tall, thin, silver-haired, stately old lady her imagination had pictured, she saw sitting at his writing-table a stout woman of middle height, with grizzled locks under her black lace cap. A pair of cold grey eyes looked up at her with a surprised and indignant glance.
"This is his mother," she thought.
Richard jumped up from his revolving-chair, and Lilly, speechless with terror, stared at the old lady, who in her turn sprang to her feet. An expression of fury and scorn blazed in the cold grey eyes.
"This is really a charming state of things," she cried, turning her head from one to the other with sharp, angry jerks. "Charming! I am not even safe in my own house, it seems.... I must ask you, Richard, not to expose me again to a meeting with a person of this description."
And while Lilly timidly and respectfully made room for her to pass, she swept to the door with a snort of rage.
"What are you doing here? What do you mean by coming here?"
Never had he shouted at her like this before.