office
close by the front door. He could hear now and then a word of what they
said, but not all. Venturing a step further, he leaned over the
balustrade which extended almost up to his own door. This was better; he
could now catch most of the words and sometimes a sentence. They all
referred to the sister. "Temper--her own way--deaf--_would_ walk in all
the rain and slush.--A strange character--you can't imagine," and other
similar phrases, uttered in a passionate and half-angry voice. Then
ejaculations from Mrs. Deo, and a word or two of caution or injunction in
the polished tones of the lawyer, followed by a sudden rush towards the
staircase, over which he was leaning.

"Show me my room," rang up in Georgian's bell-like tones; "then I'll tell
you what to do about _her_. She isn't easily managed."

"But she'll get her death!" expostulated Mrs. Deo; "to say nothing of her
losing her way in this dreadful darkness. Let me send--"

"Not yet," broke in his young wife's voice, with just the hint of
asperity in it. "She must trudge out her tantrum first. I think her idea
was to show that she remembered the old place and the lane where she used
to pick blackberries. You needn't worry about her getting cold. She's
lived a gipsy life too many years to mind wind and wet. But it's
different with _me_. I'm all in a shiver. Which is my room, please?"

She was now at the head of the stairs. Mr. Ransom had closed his door,
but not latched it, and as she turned to go down the hall, followed by
the chattering landlady, he swung it open for an instant and so caught
one full glimpse of her beloved figure. She was dressed in a long
rain-coat and had some sort of modish hat on her head, which, in spite of
its simplicity, gave her a highly fashionable air. A woman to draw all
eyes, but such a mystery to her husband! Such a mystery to all who knew
her story, or rather her actions, for no one seemed to know her story.

Events did not halt. He heard her give this and that order, open a door
and look in; say a word of commendation, ask if the key was on her side
of the partition, then shut the door again and open another.

"Ah, this looks comfortable," she exclaimed in great satisfaction. "Is
that my bag? Put it down, please. I'll open it. Now, if you'll leave me a
moment alone, I'll soon be ready. But you mustn't expect me to eat till
Anitra comes. I couldn't do that. Oh, she's a dreadful trial, Mrs. Deo;
you have a motherly face, and I c