Mannering rose to his feet with a little exclamation.

The woman stood and looked in upon them. She wore a pink cloth gown, a
flower-garlanded hat, a white coaching veil, beneath which her features
were indistinguishable. She brought with her a waft of strong perfume.
Her figure was a living suggestion of the struggle between maturity and
the corsetiére. Before she spoke she laughed--not altogether pleasantly.

"You here again!" she exclaimed to Mannering. "Upon my word! I'm not a
ghost! Hester, go and see about some tea, and a brandy and soda. Billy
Foa brought me up on his motor, and I'm half choked with dust."

The girl rose obediently and quitted the room. The woman untwisted her
veil, drew out the pins from her hat, and threw both upon the sofa. Then
she turned suddenly upon Mannering.

"Look here," she said, "the last twice you've been here you seem to have
carefully chosen times when I am out. I don't understand it. It can't be
that you want to see that chit of a girl of mine. Why don't you come when
I ask you? Why do you act as though I were something to be avoided?"

Mannering rose to his feet.

"I came to-day without knowing where you were," he answered, "but I will
admit that I wished to see Hester."

"What for?"

"I have asked her to come and live at Blakely with my niece and myself.
She is an excellent typist, and I require a secretary."