'She doesn't look----' protested the girl. Lady John, glancing at her niece, seemed in some intangible way to take alarm. 'I'm not sure but what she does. Her mouth--always like this--as if she were holding back something by main force.' 'Well, so she is,' slipped out from between Aunt Lydia's thin lips as Lady John disappeared into the lobby. 'Why haven't I seen Miss Levering before this summer?' Jean asked. 'Oh, she's lived abroad.' The lady was debating with herself. 'You don't know about her, I suppose?' 'I don't know how Aunt Ellen came across her, if that's what you mean.' 'Her father was a person everybody knew. One of his daughters made a very good marriage. But this one--I didn't bargain for you and Hermione getting mixed up with her.' 'I don't see that we're either of us---- But Miss Levering seems to go everywhere. Why shouldn't she?' With sudden emphasis, 'You mustn't ask her to Eaton Square,' said Aunt Lydia. 'I have.' Mrs. Heriot half rose from her seat. 'Then you'll have to get out of it!' 'Why?' 'I am sure your grandfather would agree with me. I warn you I won't stand by and see that woman getting you into her clutches.' 'Clutches? Why should you think she wants me in her clutches?' 'Just for the pleasure of clutching! She's the kind that's never satisfied till she has everybody in the pitiful state your Aunt Ellen's in about her. Richard Farnborough, too, just on the very verge of asking Hermione to marry him!' 'Oh, is that it?' the girl smiled wisely. 'No!' Too late Mrs. Heriot saw her misstep. 'That's _not_ it! And I am sure, if Mr. Stonor knew what I do, he would agree with me that you must not ask her to the house.' 'Of course I'd do anything he asked me to. But he would give me a reason. And a very good reason, too!' The pretty face was very stubborn. Aunt Lydia's wore the inflamed look not so much of one who is angry as of a person who has a cold in the head. 'I'll give you the reason!' she said. 'It's not a thing I should have preferred to tell you, but I know how difficult you are to guide--so I suppose you'll have to know.' She looked round and lowered her voice. 'It was ten or twelve years ago. I found her horribly ill in a lonely Welsh farmhouse.' 'Miss Levering?' Mrs. Heriot nodded. 'We had taken the Manor for that August. The farmer's wife was frightened, and begged me to go and see what I thought. I soon saw how it was--I thought she was dying.' '_Dying?_ What was the----' 'I got no more out of her than the farmer's wife did. She had no letters. There had been no one to see her except a man down from London, a shady-looking doctor--nameless, of course. And then this result. The farmer and his wife, highly respectable people, were incensed. They were for turning the girl out.' '_Oh_! but----'