iss Wangle was acid, Mrs.
Mosscrop-Smythe ultra-forbearing, whilst Mrs. Barnes found it
impossible to decide between a heart-cake and a rusk. Only Mrs.
Hamilton, at work upon her inevitable knitting, seemed human and
content.

On returning to Galvin House Patricia had formed a habit of
instinctively casting her eyes in the direction of the letter-rack,
beneath which was the table on which parcels were placed that they
might be picked up as the various guests entered on their way to their
rooms. She took herself severely to task for this weakness, but in
spite of her best efforts, her eyes would wander towards the table and
letter-rack. At last she had to take stern measures with herself and
deliberately walk along the hall with her face turned to the left, that
is to the side opposite from that of the letter-rack table.

On the Sunday afternoon following her adventure at the Quadrant
Grill-room, Patricia entered Galvin House, her head resolutely turned
to the left, and ran into Gustave.

"Oh, mees!" he exclaimed, his gentle, cow-like face expressing pained
surprise, rather than indignation.

Gustave was a Swiss, a French-Swiss, he was emphatic on this point.
Patricia said he was Swiss wherever he wasn't French, and German
wherever he wasn't Swiss and French.

"I am so sorry, Gustave," apologised Patricia. "I wasn't looking where
I was going."

Gustave smiled amiably, Patricia was a great favourite of his. "There
is a lady in the looaunge, Mees Brent, the same as you." Gustave
smiled broadly as if he had discovered some subtle joke in the
duplication of Patricia's name.

"Oh, bother!" muttered Patricia to herself. "Aunt Adelaide, imagine
Aunt Adelaide on an afternoon like this."

She entered the lounge wearily, to find Miss Brent the centre of a
group, the foremost in which were Mrs. Craske-Morton, Miss Wangle, and
Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe. Patricia groaned in spirit; she knew exactly
what had been taking place, and now she would have to explain
everything. Could she explain? Had she for one moment paused to think
of Aunt Adelaide, no amount of frenzy or excitement would have prompted
her to such an adventure. Miss Brent would probe the mystery out of a
ghost. Material, practical, levelheaded, victorious, she would strip
romance from a legend, or glamour from a myth.

As she entered the lounge, Patricia saw by the movement of Miss
Wangle's lips that she was saying "Ah! here she is." Miss Brent turned