Desboro swung his legs to the carpet and sat up.
"What kind of lady is she?" he asked; "a perfect one, or the real thing?"
"I don't know, sir. It's hard to tell these days; one dresses like t'other."
Desboro laid aside his book and arose leisurely.
"Where is she?"
"In the reception room, sir."
"Did you ever before see her?"
"I don't know, Mr. James—what with her veil and furs——"
"How did she come?"
"In one of Ransom's hacks from the station. There's a trunk outside, too."