the lady, can I? Even an angel in a
poke--"

The singing had ceased, and in the little silence there came a knock at
the sitting-room door. Carminow had called out "Come in" automatically
before a sudden idea sent him to his feet. He was too late; the door had
opened and a young lady in grey stood hesitating on the threshold.

CHAPTER IX

HIDDEN SPRINGS

She stood still, dismayed, her hand still on the doorknob, obviously
distressed at the unexpected company in which she found herself.

"Miss Grey ... do please come in ... is there anything I can do ...?"
mumbled Carminow in great agitation, pushing a chair forward and then
pulling it back again indeterminedly.

"I'm so sorry--" began the low full voice, richer in speech than in
song. "I'd no idea--I only wondered whether you could--but it's
nothing."

"Anything," Carminow assured her distractedly; "but please permit me to
introduce my friends ... Mr. Killigrew, Mr. Ruan--Miss Grey."

Everyone bowed, and then Miss Grey said simply: "It was only that my
lamp has gone out; you know there isn't any gas on my floor, and I
remembered you had paraffin for your reading lamp.... I'm so afraid of
the dark. I know it's very silly...."

"Not at all, very natural, I'm sure. You can have the whole lamp, Miss
Grey, but you must let me clean it. It might smell. Yes, please, I
insist. You must sit down here in the light while I do it. I'm afraid
it's dweadfully smoky. Killigrew, do open the window--"

So he fussed, while Miss Grey, with a murmured thanks, sank into the
chair Ishmael shyly offered her and waited very simply, her hands folded
on her lap. There was a simplicity, a lack of any self-consciousness, in
her whole manner, so Ishmael, used to Phoebe and Vassie--neither of
whom was the same in men's company that she was out of it--told
himself. This girl seemed divinely unaware even of any strangeness in
the position in which she now found herself--the unawareness of an
angel.... When Killigrew talked to her she answered frankly and freely,
almost with the confidence of a child. She could not be more than
twenty, Ishmael decided, and with all her maturity of build had a
childish air. The fashions of the day were not conducive to youthfulness
of appearance; but not even the long full skirts trimmed with bands of
black velvet or the close-fitting bodice could make her seem other than
a schoolgirl, while the hair worn brushed loosely back from the forehead
inst