"O Mr. Rangely!" she cried. "How did you get into the room without my
knowing? How horrid of you to surprise me like that!"

"But think how charming it is for me," he responded with an elaborate
air of gallantry. "It is so delightful to see you on a pedestal."

"Meaning that I am no better than a graven image?" she demanded with a
smile. "If that is the best you can do, I may as well come down."

She held out her hand for his, and then sat down, displaying one of the
fascinating slippers, and the openwork instep of her silk stocking,
through the meshes of which the pearly skin gleamed evasively.

"My dress is caught," she said, turning to conceal her face, and
pretending to pull at her skirt. "I hope my slippers haven't damaged
the piano."

"The piano is harder than my heart if they haven't!"

She gave a sly twitch at a hairpin.

"That is very pretty," observed she, giving her head a shake that
brought her hair down in a rolling billow. "Oh, dear! Now my hair has"--

Before she could finish he had dropped her fingers, and gathered her
hair in both hands, kissing it again and again.

"Mr. Rangely!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean?"