resolved upon, appearances had to be preserved. The secrecy in itself
was delicious, but even the short experiences of the morning had shown
both of them how extremely difficult it would be for two people who were
everything to each other to behave as though they were nothing to each
other. George hoped, however, that Mr. Haim would again be absent, and
he was anticipating exquisite hours.

At the precise instant when he put his latchkey in the door the door was
pulled away from him by a hand within, and he saw a woman of about
thirty-five, plump but not stout, in a blue sateen dress, bonneted but
not gloved. She had pleasant, commonplace features and brown hair.
Several seconds elapsed before George recognized in her Mrs. Lobley, the
charwoman of No. 8, and when he did so he was a little surprised at her
presentableness. He had met her very seldom in the house. He was always
late for breakfast, and his breakfast was always waiting for him. On
Sundays he was generally out. If he did catch sight of her, she was
invariably in a rough apron and as a rule on her knees. Their
acquaintance had scarcely progressed far enough for him to call her
'Mrs. Lob' with any confidence. He had never seen her at night, though
upon occasion he had heard her below in the basement, and for him she
was associated with mysterious nocturnal goings and comings by the
basement door. That she should be using the front door was as startling
as that she should be so nobly attired in blue sateen.

"Good evening--Mr. Cannon," she said, in her timid voice, too thin for
her body. He noticed that she was perturbed. Hitherto she had always
addressed him as 'sir.'

"Excuse me," she said, and with an apologetic air she slipped past him
and departed out of the house.

Mr. Haim was visible just within the doorway of the sitting-room, and
behind him the table with the tea-things still on it. George had felt
considerably self-conscious in Mr. Haim's presence at the office; and he
was so preoccupied by his own secret mighty affair that his first
suspicion connected the strange apparition of a new Mrs. Lobley and the
peculiar look on Mr. Haim's face with some disagreeable premature and
dramatic explosion of the secret mighty affair. His thoughts, though
absurd, ran thus because they could not run in any other way.

"Ah, Mr. Cannon!" said Mr. Haim queerly. "You're in early to-night."

"A bit earlier," George admitted, with caution. "Have to read, you
know."