e is a young lady asking for you, Sir Powers--the name, I believe,
is Surtoes."

"Show her in at once."

The man bowed. A moment later he ushered Eleanor in. Her hat was beaten
about with wind and rain, even her hair was disordered. She was
breathless with rapid walking, her cheeks were wet, and the raindrops
hung about her clothes. Powers held out his hand and drew her toward the
fire.

"So you have come to see me," he said, in a tone as nearly
matter-of-fact as he could make it. "I am delighted! I was just looking
forward to a lonely and a particularly dull evening."

He wheeled an easy chair to the fire, and placed her in it. He saw that
she was nervous and embarrassed, and he continued to talk.

"To-night," he said, "is one of the most horrible instances of our
marvelous climate. I had just written to ask you to have a day upon the
river with me. Imagine it."

She smiled, and the color began to reappear in her cheeks.

"I want you, please, to tell me the exact truth," she said. "My coming
here, I know, is very foolish. I want to know whether it inconveniences
you in any way--whether your mother or any one else might think it
strange?"

He laughed reassuringly.

"Mine is entirely a bachelor establishment," he declared. "My mother and
sister live in Berkeley Square. There is no one here to whom your visit
would be even a subject of remark."

She gave a little sigh of relief, and leaned back in her chair. The
warmth and comfort of the room after that dreary walk through the rain
and hail outside were like a strong, sweet sedative. A curious sense of
rest, of finality, took possession of her. With the closing of the front
door, with the first breath of that air of indefinable luxury which
everywhere pervaded her new surroundings, she seemed to pass into a new
order of things. There had been a single moment of breathless
excitement, of trembling speculation as to the nature of his greeting,
but his welcome had been so easy and natural that her fears had been all
dispelled by his first few words.

"It is perhaps very foolish of me to come here," she said, "but I have
never quite forgotten what you said to me in the tea-room. It was
probably nonsense. If so, please tell me, and let me go."

His brows went up in vague surprise; then ignoring her words, he lighted
a cigarette, and stood thoughtfully puffing it, his elbow resting on the
broad oaken mantelpiece.

"I must tell you something more about myself,"