They descended. The host was very dignified, as invariably at the
office, and his accent never lapsed from the absolute correctness of an
educated Londoner. His deportment gave distinction and safety even to
the precipitous and mean basement stairs, which were of stone worn as by
the knees of pilgrims in a crypt. All kinds of irregular pipes ran about
along the ceiling of the basement; some were covered by ancient layers
of wall-paper and some were not; some were painted yellow, and some were
painted grey, and some were not painted. Mr. Haim exhibited first the
kitchen. George saw a morsel of red amber behind black bars, a white
deal table and a black cat crouched on a corner of the table, a chair,
and a tea-cloth drying over the back thereof. He liked the scene; it
reminded him of the Five Towns, and showed reassuringly--if he needed
reassurance, which he did not--that all houses are the same at heart.
Then Mr. Haim, flashing a lamp-ray on the coal-hole and the area door as
he turned, crossed the stone passage into the other basement room.

"This is our second sitting-room," said Mr. Haim, entering.

There she was at work, rapt, exactly as George had seen her from the
outside. But now he saw the right side of her face instead of the left.
It was wonderful to him that within the space of a few minutes he should
have developed from an absolute stranger to her into an acquaintance of
the house, walking about in it, peering into its recesses, disturbing
its secrets, which were hers. But she remained as mysterious, as
withdrawn and intangible, as ever. And then she shifted round suddenly
on the chair, and her absorbed, intent face softened into a most
beautiful, simple smile--a smile of welcome. An astonishing and
celestial change!... She was not one of those queer girls, as perhaps
she might have been. She was a girl of natural impulses. He smiled back,