Some one outside had hold of the handle of the door. She uncovered her face. She touched her hair. She touched the bosom of her dress. She dropped into the chair by which she was standing. In an instant she was the picture of composure.
The door opened to admit Mr. Haines.
His appearance was a shock to Mrs. Carruth. She looked negligently round, as if indifferent who the new-comer might be, and then--she stared.
"You!"
There was something in the lady's intonation which was very far from being complimentary. She stood up, quivering with disappointment and with rage.
"I thought I gave instructions that this afternoon I was not at home to visitors."
Mr. Haines did not seem to be at all nonplussed.
"That's what the young lady who opened the door told me. I said I would wait until you were. I will."
Mr. Haines sat down--with every appearance of having come to stay. Mrs. Carruth looked at the clock, then at her watch, then at the gentleman upon the chair. The gentleman in question, with his head thrown back, was staring at the ceiling, as if quite unconscious of her neighbourhood. It seemed to be as much as the lady could do to retain her self-control.
"I am sure, Mr. Haines, that you cannot wish to be rude. I have an appointment this afternoon which I regret will prevent my having the pleasure of receiving you."