CHAPTER XXXVI. Rose's Adventure

If Christians would teach Infidels to be just to
Christianity, they should themselves be just to infidelity.
John Stuart Mill

The green room was one of those rooms which show to most advantage on a
winter evening; attractive and comfortable at all times, it nevertheless
reached its highest degree of comfort when the dusky green curtains were
drawn, when the old wainscoted walls were lighted up by the red glow
from the fire, and the well-worn books on the shelves were mellowed
by the soft light into a uniform and respectable brown. One November
evening, when without was the thickest of London fogs, Erica was sitting
at her writing table with Friskarina on her lap, and Tottie curled up
at her feet, preparing for one of her science classes, when she was
interrupted by the sound of a cab drawing up, speedily followed by a
loud ring at the bell.

"Surely Monsieur Noirol can't have come already!" she said to herself,
looking at her watch. It was just six o'clock, a whole hour before
dinner time. Steps were approaching the door, however, and she was just
inhospitably wishing her guest elsewhere, when to her intense amazement
the servant announced "Miss Fane-Smith."

She started forward with an exclamation of incredulity for it seemed
absurd to think of Rose actually coming to see her in her father's
house. But incredulity was no longer possible when Rose herself entered,
in ulster and traveling hat, with her saucy laughing face, and her
invariable content with herself and the world in general.

"Why, Erica!" she cried, kissing her on both cheeks, "I don't believe
you're half properly glad to see me! Did you think it was my wraith? I
assure you it's my own self in the flesh, and very cold flesh, too. What
a delightful room! I'd no idea atheists' homes were so much like other
people's. You cold-hearted little cousin, why don't you welcome me?"

"I am very glad to see you," said Erica, kissing her again. "But, Rose,
what did bring you here?"

"A fusty old cab, a four-wheeler, a growler, don't you call them? But,
if you knew why I have come to you in this unexpected way, you would
treat me like the heroine I am, and not stand there like an incarnation
of prudent hesitation. I've bee treated like the man in the parable,
I've fallen among thieves, and am left with my raiment, certainly, but
not a farthing besides in the world. And now, of course, you'll enact
the good