Ciccio were not there. And as
the time came to get down, she looked anxiously back and forth to
see at which halt she had better descend--where fewer people would
notice her. But then she threw her scruples to the wind, and
descended into the staring, Sunday afternoon street, attended by
Ciccio, who carried her bag. She knew she was a marked figure.

They slipped round to Manchester House. Miss Pinnegar expected
Alvina, but by the train, which came later. So she had to be knocked
up, for she was lying down. She opened the door looking a little
patched in her cheeks, because of her curious colouring, and a
little forlorn, and a little dumpy, and a little irritable.

"I didn't know there'd be two of you," was her greeting.

"Didn't you," said Alvina, kissing her. "Ciccio came to carry my
bag."

"Oh," said Miss Pinnegar. "How do you do?" and she thrust out her
hand to him. He shook it loosely.

"I had your wire," said Miss Pinnegar. "You said the train. Mrs.
Rollings is coming in at four again--"

"Oh all right--" said Alvina.

The house was silent and afternoon-like. Ciccio took off his coat
and sat down in Mr. Houghton's chair. Alvina told him to smoke. He
kept silent and reserved. Miss Pinnegar, a poor, patch-cheeked,
rather round-backed figure with grey-brown fringe, stood as if she
did not quite know what to say or do.

She followed Alvina upstairs to her room.

"I can't think why you bring _him_ here," snapped Miss Pinnegar. "I
don't know what you're thinking about. The whole place is talking
already."

"I don't care," said Alvina. "I like him."

"Oh--for shame!" cried Miss Pinnegar, lifting her hand with Miss
Frost's helpless, involuntary movement. "What do you think of
yourself? And your father a month dead."

"It doesn't matter. Father _is_ dead. And I'm sure the dead don't
mind."

"I never _knew_ such things as you say."

"Why? I mean them."

Miss Pinnegar stood blank and helpless.

"You're not asking him to stay the night," she blurted.

"Yes. And I'm going back with him to Madame tomorrow. You know I'm
part of the company now, as pianist."

"And are you going to marry him?"

"I don't know."

"How _can_ you say you don't know! Why, it's awful. You make me feel
I shall go out of my mind."

"But I _don't_ know," said Alvina.

"It's incredible! Simply incredible! I believe you're out of your
senses. I used to think sometimes there was something wrong with
your mother. And that's wha