‘I could not see her.’
‘Ah, no—of course you could not from this window because of the trees. Mr. Somerset, will you come downstairs? You will have to meet her, you know.’
Somerset felt an indescribable backwardness. ‘I will go on with my sketching,’ he said. ‘Perhaps she will not be—’
‘O, but it would be quite natural, would it not? Our manners are easier here, you know, than they are in town, and Miss Power has adapted herself to them.’
A compromise was effected by Somerset declaring that he would hold himself in readiness to be discovered on the landing at any convenient time.
A servant entered. ‘Miss Power?’ said Miss De Stancy, before he could speak.
The man advanced with a card: Miss De Stancy took it up, and read thereon: ‘Mr. William Dare.’
‘It is not Miss Power who has come, then?’ she asked, with a disappointed face.
‘No, ma’am.’
She looked again at the card. ‘This is some man of business, I suppose—does he want to see me?’