ably be trifling now had not the handle of her door been
boldly turned, the door opened, and a young man come confidently
forward.

His confidence comes to an untimely end as his astonished eyes rest on
Cecil.

"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," he says, beating a hasty retreat back to
the landing outside. "I had no idea--I'm awfully sorry--but this room
used to be mine."

"It is mine now," says Cecil, accepting the situation at a glance,
recognizing Sir Penthony without hesitation.

He is a tall young man,--"lanky," as she has herself expressed
him,--with thick brown hair, closely cropped. He has handsome dark
eyes, with a rather mocking expression in them, and has a trick of
shutting them slightly if puzzled or annoyed. His voice is extremely
charming, though it has a distinct croak (that can hardly be called
husky or hoarse) that is rather fascinating. His short upper lip is
covered by a heavy brown moustache that hides a laughing mouth. He is
aristocratic and good-looking, without being able to lay claim to
actual beauty.

Just now he is overwhelmed with confusion, as Cecil, feeling compelled
thereto, steps forward, smiling, to reassure him.

"You have made a mistake,--you have lost your way," she says, in a tone
that trembles ever such a little in spite of her efforts to be calm.

"To my shame I confess it," he says, laughing, gazing with
ill-concealed admiration at this charming azure vision standing before
him. "Foolishly I forgot to ask for my room, and ran up the stairs,
feeling certain that the one that used to be mine long ago must be so
still. Can you forgive me?"

"I think I can. Meantime, if you are Sir Penthony Stafford, your room
lies there," pointing to the last door opening on the corridor.

"Thank you," yet making no haste to reach the discovered shelter. "May
I not know to whom I am indebted for so much kindness?"

"I dare say you will be introduced in proper form by and by," says
Cecil, demurely, making a movement as though to leave him. "When you
are dressed you shall be formally presented."

"At least," he asks, hastily, with a view to detaining her, "do me one
more service before you go. If you know me so well, perhaps you can
tell me if any of my friends are staying here at present?"

"Several. Teddy Luttrell for one."

"Indeed! And----"

"The Darleys. You know them?"

"Little woman,--dolly,--bizarre in manner and dress?"

"A most accurate description. And there is another frien