Mrs. Field made an inarticulate response, and took a grating step
forward. The old man turned suddenly and saw her. She stood back
again; there was a shrinking stiffness about her attitude, but she
looked him full in the face.

"Why, good-day!" he exclaimed. "Good-day, madam. I didn't hear you
come in."

Mrs. Field murmured a good-day in return.

"Take a seat, madam." The lawyer had risen, and was advancing toward
her. He was a small, sharp-eyed man, whose youthful agility had
crystallized into a nervous pomposity. Suddenly he stopped short; he
had passed a broad slant of dusty sunlight which had lain between him
and his visitor, and he could see her face plainly. His own elongated
for a second, his under jaw lopped, and his brows contracted. Then he
stepped forward. "Why, Mrs. Maxwell!" said he; "how do you do?"

"I'm pretty well, thank you," replied Mrs. Field. She tried to bow,
but her back would not bend.

"I am delighted to see you," said the lawyer. "I recognize you
perfectly now. I should have before, if the sun had not been in my
eyes. I never forget a face."

He took her by the hand, and shook it up and down effusively. Then he
pushed forward the leather easy-chair with gracious insinuation. Mrs.
Field sat down, bolt-upright, on the extreme verge of it.

The lawyer drew a chair to her side, seated himself, leaned forward