windows of this room look out
that way--interrupted our made conversation.

"This must be Bob arriving," Mr. Carruthers said, and went reluctantly
into the hall to meet his guest.

They came back together presently, and he introduced Lord Robert to me.

I felt at once he was rather a pet. Such a shape! Just like the Apollo
Belvedere! I do love that look, with a tiny waist and nice shoulders, and
looking as if he were as lithe as a snake, and yet could break pokers in
half like Mr. Rochester in _Jane Eyre_.

He has great, big, sleepy eyes of blue, and rather a plaintive expression,
and a little fairish mustache turned up at the corners, and the nicest
mouth one ever saw; and when you see him moving, and the back of his head,
it makes you think all the time of a beautifully groomed thorough-bred
horse. I don't know why. At once--in a minute--when we looked at each
other, I felt I should like "Bob." He has none of Mr. Carruthers's
cynical, hard expression, and I am sure he can't be nearly as old--not
more than twenty-seven or so.

He seemed perfectly at home--sat down and had tea, and talked in the most
casual, friendly way. Mr. Carruthers appeared to freeze up, Mr. Barton got
more _banal_, and the whole thing entertained me immensely.

I often used to long for adventures in the old days with Mrs. Carruthers,
and here I am really having them!

Such a situation! I am sure people would think it most improper! I alone
in the house with these three men! I felt I really would have to go--but
where?

Meanwhile I have every intention of amusing myself.

Lord Robert and I seemed to have a hundred things to say to each other. I
do like his voice--and he is so perfectly _sans gene_ it makes no
difficulties. By the end of tea we were as old friends. Mr. Carruthers got
more and more polite and stiff, and finally jumped up and hurried his
guest off to the smoking-room.

I put on such a duck of a frock for dinner--one of the sweetest,
chastened simplicity, in black, showing peeps of skin through the thin
part at the top. Nothing could be more demure or becoming, and my hair
would not behave, and stuck out in rebellious waves and curls everywhere.

I thought it would be advisable not to be in too good time, so sauntered
down after I knew dinner was announced.

They were both standing on the hearth-rug. I always forget to count Mr.
Barton; he was in some chair, I suppose, but I did not notice him.

Mr. Carruthers is the ta