The door opened. Ferris appeared. He looked at the girl, not with the cold distaste which he had exhibited earlier in the day towards George Finch, but with a certain paternal affection. Ferris measured forty-six round the waist, but Beauty still had its appeal for him.
"Mrs. Waddington desired me to say, miss," he said, "that an appointment of an urgent nature has called her elsewhere, rendering it impossible for her to see you this afternoon."
"She might have phoned me," the girl complained.
Ferris allowed one eyebrow to flicker momentarily, conveying the idea, that, while he sympathised, a spirit of loyalty forbade him to join in criticism of his employer.
"Mrs. Waddington wished to know if it would be convenient to you, miss, if she called upon you to-morrow at five o'clock?"
"All right."
"Thank you, miss. Miss Waddington is expecting you, sir."
Hamilton Beamish continued to stare after the girl, who, with a friendly nod in his direction, had begun to walk light-heartedly out of his life along the street.
"Who is that young lady, Ferris?" he asked.
"I could not say, sir."