She followed him into his sitting-room, and took the easy chair he wheeled out toward the table for her. It was a larger apartment than the narrow staircase and cramped landing had promised. The ceiling was low and dreadfully smoky, it was true, and the appointments and furniture were old-fashioned. But the whole effect, if somewhat meagre and unadorned, was comfortable and honest. “Put off your hat and gloves, and look as if you felt at home,” urged David. “You’ve but a step to go.” He busied himself meanwhile in bringing from a recess of the sideboard two tumblers, a heavy decanter filled with an amber liquid, and a big bottle of soda water. “You’ll join me in some whisky and soda?” he asked pleasantly, fumbling with the wire. “Oh mercy, no!” said Vestalia. “Really I mustn’t touch anything more. I see now that I have been drinking far too much, all day long.” “Tut!” he answered. “How could there be too much on a birthday? And now I think of it, there were two of them! I pledge my word, it has been a singularly dry occasion for a double birthday. We must hasten to make good the deficiency.” Vestalia had drawn off her gloves. She rose now, and standing before the mantel-mirror, lifted her hat from her head. Then she turned and, half-playfully, half in pleading, shook her bright curls at him. “I thought it was going to be different hereafter,” she said, softly. He looked inquiry for an instant, then nodded comprehension. “Ay,” he said, with gravity, “you’re a wise virgin. This one glass shall last me the night. You are very welcome here, my lady!” She smiled at the lifted tumbler, over which his eyes regarded her. “What lots of books you have!” she exclaimed, a moment later, and began an inspection of the room, lingering in turn before each of the old prints on the dingy walls, and examining the rows of volumes in detail. He loitered beside her for a little, passing comments on what seemed to interest her. Then he disappeared in an adjoining room, and returned presently in a loose velveteen jacket and slippers. He took the famous dressing-bag from the table. “Your visit isn’t at all over yet,” he remarked; “but I am consumed with a desire to see you sitting opposite me, here, in those wee soft slippers of yours. It will make a sweet picture for me to carry into dreamland. And so first I will show you your new home.”