n instantly after, "I'd like to take
away some of that loneliness."

"She'll have a fine old time," he thought, "if she isn't too sensitive."

Lady Adela had now moved forward with Brun to look at the picture, but
the girl did not move with them. She did not look at the portrait nor
did she appear to take any interest in the other pictures. She stood
there, making, every now and again, little nervous movements with her
black gloves.

Arkwright moved about the gallery by himself a little, and he was
conscious that the girl's large black eyes followed him. He fancied, as,
for an instant he glanced back, that the Duchess from her high wall
leaned forward on her cane just a little further, so that she might
force the girl to give her attention. "That girl's got plenty of
spirit," thought Arkwright, "I'd like to see a battle between her and
the old lady. It would be tooth and nail."

Then once again the door opened--there was again an addition to the
company. Arkwright was, at that moment, facing the girl, and as he heard
the sharp closing of the door he saw in her eyes the welcome that the
new-comer had received.

She was transformed. The pallor of her face was now flooded with colour,
and she seemed almost beautiful as the hostility left her, and her mouth
curved in a smile of so immense a relief that it emphasized indeed her
earlier burden. Her whole body expressed the intensity of her pleasure;
her awkwardness had departed; she was suddenly in possession of herself.
Arkwright's gaze went past her to the door. The man who stood there was
greeting the girl with a smile that had in it both surprise and
intimacy, as though they were the two oldest friends in the world, and
yet he was astonished to see her there. The man was large, roughly
built, with big limbs and a face that, without being good-looking,
beamed kindness and good-nature. His eyes and mouth were sensitive and
less ragged than the rest of him, his nose the plainest thing about him,
was square and too large for his mouth. His hair was white, although he
looked between forty and fifty years of age. His dress was correct, but
he obviously did not give his clothes more consideration than the
feelings of his friends required of him. Ruddy of face, with his white
hair and large limbs and smiling good-humour, he was pleasant to look
upon, and Arkwright did not wonder at the girl's welcome; he would be,
precisely, the kind of friend that she would need--benevolent