Past the statuary, flowers, and antlers of the hall, they traversed a long, cool corridor, and through a white door entered a white room, not very large, and very pretty. Two children got up as they came in and flapped out past them like young partridges, and Lady Malloring rose from her writing-table and came forward, holding out her hand. The two young Freelands took it gravely. For all their hostility they could not withstand the feeling that she would think them terrible young prigs if they simply bowed. And they looked steadily at one with whom they had never before been at quite such close quarters. Lady Malloring, who had originally been the Honorable Mildred Killory, a daughter of Viscount Silport, was tall, slender, and not very striking, with very fair hair going rather gray; her expression in repose was pleasant, a little anxious; only by her eyes was the suspicion awakened that she was a woman of some character. They had that peculiar look of belonging to two worlds, so often to be met with in English eyes, a look of self-denying aspiration, tinctured with the suggestion that denial might not be confined to self. In a quite friendly voice she said: “Can I do anything for you?” And while she waited for an answer her glance travelled from face to face of the two young people, with a certain curiosity. After a silence of several seconds, Sheila answered: “Not for us, thank you; for others, you can.” Lady Malloring's eyebrows rose a little, as if there seemed to her something rather unjust in those words—'for others.' “Yes?” she said. Sheila, whose hands were clenched, and whose face had been fiery red, grew suddenly almost white. “Lady Malloring, will you please let the Gaunts stay in their cottage and Tryst's wife's sister come to live with the children and him?” Lady Malloring raised one hand; the motion, quite involuntary, ended at the tiny cross on her breast. She said quietly: “I'm afraid you don't understand.” “Yes,” said Sheila, still very pale, “we understand quite well. We understand that you are acting in what you believe to be the interests of morality. All the same, won't you? Do!” “I'm very sorry, but I can't.” “May we ask why?” Lady Malloring started, and transferred her glance to Derek. “I don't know,” she said with a smile, “that I am obliged to account for my actions to you two young people. Besides, you must know why, quite well.” Sheila put out her hand. “Wilmet Gaunt will go to the bad if you turn them out.” “I am afraid I think she has gone to the bad already, and I do not mean her to take others there with her. I am sorry for poor Tryst, and I wish he could find some nice woman to marry; but what he proposes is impossible.” The blood had flared up again in Sheila's cheeks; she was as red as the comb of a turkey-cock. “Why shouldn't he marry his wife's sister? It's legal, now, and you've no right to stop it.” Lady Malloring bit her lips; she looked straight and hard at Sheila.