when he came home from his office one night, just after twelve
o'clock, and found the mistress of the mansion standing in the hall
by the register, in charming evening attire.

She smiled upon him radiantly. "I have just come in from a benefit
concert," she said, "and I am as hungry as a bear. Now I cannot
endure eating alone at night. I knew it was near your hour to
return, so I waited for you. Will you go down to the dining-room
with me and have a Welsh rarebit? I am going to make one in my
chafing dish."

The young man hid his surprise under a gallant smile, and offering
the Baroness his arm descended to the basement dining-room with her.
He had heard much about the complicated life of this woman, and he
felt a certain amount of natural curiosity in regard to her. He had
met her but once, and that was on the day when he had called to
engage his room, a little more than two weeks past.

He had thought her an excellent type of the successful American
adventuress on that occasion, and her quiet and dull life in this
ordinary town puzzled him. He could not imagine a woman of that
order existing a whole year without an adventure; as a rule he knew
that those blonde women with large hips and busts, and small waists
and feet, are as unable to live without excitement as a fish without
water.

Yet, since the death of Mr Brown, more than a year past, the Baroness
had lived the life of a recluse. It puzzled him, as a student of
human nature.