"I beg pardon. Shall I be so fortunate as to have the privilege of an introduction?"
"I was just about to leave," said Emily, passing him without a glance. "Good-evening, Mr. Shagarach."
"Good-evening."
Shagarach attended her to the door with the deference he habitually showed, and she felt his strong presence like a zone of protection thrown around her.
"You are punctual, Kennedy," said Shagarach, returning to the newcomer. He had clicked his desk to and donned a hat and coat while the other was drawling out an answer.
"The Dove-Cote is just about on."
Meanwhile Emily, as Shagarach predicted, had descended the stairs much more doubtfully than she had mounted them. But she clung to her woman's faith that even the interrupted conversation with Bertha might yield items which would germinate at a later stage; and, empty though it were, her victory over the great McCausland was one of those successes which give cheer to a young campaigner.
Sustained by these hopes, she rode home at last and related the whole story of her day's adventures and misadventures to her wondering mother over the supper that had been cold for two hours.