"Yes?"

Suddenly her eyes, for the first time detached from his, swept the room
with a glance of wild dismay.

"This room," she breathed--"I don't know it--"

"It is mine."

"Yours! But--"

"That is how I happened to--interrupt you."

The girl shrank back a pace--two paces--uttering a low-toned
monosyllable of understanding, an "_O!_" abruptly gasped.
Simultaneously her face and throat flamed scarlet.

"_Your_ room, Mr. Lanyard!"

Her tone so convincingly voiced shame and horror that his heart misgave
him. Not that alone, but the girl was very good to look upon. "I'm
sure," he began soothingly; "it doesn't matter. You mistook a door--"

"But you don't understand!" She shuddered....
"This dreadful habit! And I was hoping I had outgrown it! How can I ever
explain--?"

"Believe me, Miss Bannon, you need explain nothing."