A door on the right side of the hall is opened cautiously; a shapely
little head is as cautiously pushed through it, and two anxious red
lips whisper:--

"Mr. Curzon," first, and then, as he turns in answer to the whisper,
"Sh--_Sh!"_



CHAPTER V.



"My love is like the sea,
As changeful and as free;
Sometimes she's angry, sometimes rough,
Yet oft she's smooth and calm enough--
Ay, much too calm for me."



It is Perpetua. A sad-eyed, a tearful-eyed Perpetua, but a lovely
Perpetua for all that.

"Well?" says he.

_"Sh!"_ says she again, shaking her head ominously, and putting her
forefinger against her lip. "Come in here," says she softly, under
her breath.