At this psychological moment, when they were both smothered in powder and clouds of it were in the air, Mrs. Dew opened the study door, announcing: "Mr. Gloag, sir." Jane-Anne started violently and upset the box, and the visitor announced came into the room. He was tall and young, with a keen, clean-shaven face, merry dark eyes, and dark curly hair worn a thought longer than is usual with young men. He stopped short on the threshold, for really the pair before him presented a most extraordinary appearance. Mr. Wycherly leapt to his feet, exclaiming: "Curly, my dear fellow, I am delighted to see you." He had quite forgotten the "Magnolia Bloom" in his pleasure at beholding an old friend. "Am I interrupting a rehearsal, or what?" the young man asked, as he shook hands warmly. Mr. Wycherly sneezed again. "Oh, this abominable powder; I had forgotten it for the moment. Now, Curly, you are an actor; you are familiar with make-up in every shape and form. Will you kindly tell this young lady whether you consider us improved by this whitewash?" The situation jumped to the eye. The young man laughed. "You are both of you rather new to the use of powder, I should say; no one ever leaves it on, you know." "Then what on earth is the use of it?" demanded Mr. Wycherly. "It has, perhaps, a softening effect, but it is never used in such quantities." "Go and wash, Jane-Anne," said Mr. Wycherly, "and I must do the same, then ask Mrs. Dew—no, come yourself with a dustpan and brush and clear up as well as you can. Curly will go downstairs." In absolute silence Jane-Anne did as she was bid. It took a long time to clean Mr. Wycherly’s study. There seemed a great deal of "Magnolia Bloom" for eighteenpence when she had finished. She emptied the dustpan into the dustbin, then she went and fetched _The Peeress_. Mrs. Dew had gone out to get something extra for dinner, as the gentleman was going to stay, so Jane-Anne had the kitchen to herself. She tore _The Peeress_ across and across and thrust it down into the hottest part of the fire, putting more coal on the top of it lest her aunt should see it and wonder. "There," said Jane-Anne, poking viciously. "You’re a horrid, meretricious, lying old thing, that you are." *CHAPTER XVI* *THE PURSUIT CONTINUED* "For beauty draws us by a single hair." POPE. Jane-Anne waited at dinner that night, and the stranger with the dark, vivacious eyes looked at her curiously more than once. When she had set the port in front of Mr. Wycherly and left the room finally, this guest, whom he called "Curly," leant forward, saying: "So that is the new ward?" "If you like to call her so." "She is not an ordinary girl." "I fear not." "Why fear?" "Because she will be very hard to place safely." "My own impression is," Curly said slowly, "that she will need no placing at all, she will arrange matters for herself."