classes. Her own hard and thrifty life had disposed her to see them _en
noir_. But the sudden rush of a certain section of them to crowd
Arthur's lectures had been certainly mollifying. If it had not been for
the Vampire, Doris was well aware that her standards might have given
way.

As it was, Lady Dunstable's exacting ways, her swoop, straight and
fierce, on the social morsel she desired, like that of an eagle on the
sheepfold, had made her, in Doris's sore consciousness, the
representative of thousands more; all greedy, able, domineering,
inevitably getting what they wanted, and more than they deserved;
against whom the starved and virtuous intellectuals of the professional
classes were bound to contend to the death. The story of that poor girl,
that clergyman's daughter, for instance--could anything have been more
insolent--more cruel? Doris burned to avenge her.

Suddenly--a great clatter and noise in the passage leading from the
small house behind to the studio and garden.

"Here she is!"

Uncle Charles sprang up, and reached the studio door just as a shower of
knocks descended upon it from outside. He opened it, and on the
threshold there stood two persons; a stout lady in white, surmounted by
a huge black hat with a hearse-like array of plumes; and, behind her, a
tall and willowy youth, with--so far as could be seen through the chinks
of the hat--a large nose, fair hair, pale blue eyes, and a singular
deficiency of chin. He carried in his arms a tiny black Spitz with a
pink ribbon round its neck.