Miss Van Tuyn did something to her gown, to her hair. Not that she wanted to make an impression on Sir Seymour. Circumstances were combining at present to drive her away from her vanity. Really she acted mechanically. Then she prepared to go to the sitting-room. And then, at the bedroom door she hesitated, suddenly realizing what lay before her. Finally she opened the door and listened. She heard almost immediately another door opened and a boy’s chirpy voice say:
“This way, sir, please!”
Then she went out and came upon Sir Seymour Portman in the lobby.
“How very kind of you to come!” she said, with an attempt at eager cordiality but feeling now strangely shy and guilty. “And so early!”
“Good morning! May I put my hat here?”
“Yes, do. And leave your coat. Is it cold out?”
“Rather cold.”
“This is my little room.”
She went before him into the sitting-room which had a dreadfully early morning air, with its only just beginning fire, and its wintry dimness of the poor and struggling day.
“If only we could have met in the evening!” she thought.