The old lady did not call for a few days, although she sent creams and jellies, books and flowers, by the hands of Gwen. Owain was very grateful for these kind attentions, and asked Miss Evans to take back his letter of introduction, which she did. Etiquette thus having been complied with, one day, instead of the fairy vision of Gwen, the patient beheld a tall and lean old dame stalk into his room. By this time he was able to get about with a crutch, and rose to greet her, upon which she thrust him back into his armchair with a pair of very capable hands. "Not so," said Mrs. Perage, when he was again seated and taking a chair opposite, where she kilted her black stuff dress to show a pair of large boots. "Stay where you are, young man. Hum! You look better than I expected." "I'm quite well now, thank you, Mrs. Perage. And I must apologise for not having presented Jim's letter before." "Jim sent another letter, and I know all about you," said the old lady sharply. "Oh, I don't think you do," said Hench, rather alarmed, as he feared that Vane might have been indiscreet. "Why not?" Mrs. Perage bent her sharp old eyes on his perturbed face, the good looks of which she secretly approved of. "There's nothing wrong about you, I hope and trust?" "Not what you would call wrong," said Hench evasively. "Pooh, young man. How do you know anything about my standard of morality. I don't suppose it's what you'd call a high one," added Mrs. Perage, rubbing her nose. "I always make allowance for fools, and most of those who dwell in this world, which is much too good for them, are fools." Hench laughed. He liked Mrs. Perage, who was quite a character. In her young days she had been a great beauty, although she was now old and weather-beaten, careless of her attire, and quite manly in her manner. Since the death of her husband, some thirty years ago, she had managed her estates herself, for being childless she had little else to do, and had long since outgrown the toys which amuse Society. For a woman she was uncommonly tall, and with her aquiline nose, her swart complexion and dark eyes, she resembled a gipsy. In spite of her coarse dress so carelessly worn, there was an air of good-breeding about her, and also a shrewd look on her fierce face. Owain stared hard at her Amazonian looks, considering that here was a woman who should have been the mother of heroes to gird armour on them and send them forth to the fray. She was quite out of place in a peaceful community. "Well, young man," said Mrs. Perage roughly, "you'll know me again, I daresay, if staring goes for anything. What are your thoughts?" Hench told them and suggested how unfit she was for a peaceful world where a policeman stands at every corner. "I can't see you anywhere, Mrs. Perage, but in some Norse hall, worshipping Odin and urging men to battle."