was that she
showed no signs of the tragedy which had so recently been played out
around her. Her eyes had lost their nameless fear; there was even colour
in her cheeks.

"Come along, then!" I said. "We will turn into the Strand and take a
hansom."

She walked buoyantly along by my side, as tall within an inch or so as
myself, and with a certain elegance in her gait a little hard to
reconcile with her years. All the while she looked eagerly about her,
her eyes shining with curiosity.

"We passed through Paris at night," she said, with a little reminiscent
shudder, as though every thought connected with that journey were a
torture, "and I have never really been in a great city before. I hope
you meant what you said," she added, looking up at me with a quick
smile, "and that there are parts of London more beautiful than this."

"Many," I assured her. "You shall see the parks. The rhododendrons will
be out soon, and I think that you will find them beautiful, though, of
course, the town can never be like the country. Here's a hansom with a
good horse. Jump in!"

* * * * *

I think that our arrival at Number 4, Earl's Crescent, created quite as
much sensation as I had anticipated. When I opened the door of the
large, barely-furnished room, which we called our workshop, Arthur
sprang from the table on which he had been lounging, and Mabane, who was
still working, dropped his brush in sheer amazement. I turned towards
the girl.

"These are my friends, Isobel, of whom I have been telling you," I said.
"This is Mr. Arthur Fielding, who is the ornamental member of the
establishment, and that is Mr. Allan Mabane, who paints very bad
pictures, but who contrives to make other people think that they are
worth buying. Allan, this young lady, Miss Isobel de Sorrens, and I have
had a little adventure together. I will explain all about it later on."

They both advanced with extended hands. The girl, as though suddenly
conscious of her position, gave a hand to each, and looked at them
almost piteously.

"You will not mind my coming," she begged, with a tremulous little note
of appeal in her tone. "I do not seem to have any friends, and Mr.
Arnold has been so kind to me. If I may stay here for a little while I
will try--oh, I am sure, that I will not be in anyone's way!"

The pathos of her breathless little speech was almost irresistible. The
child, as she stood there in the centre of the room, l