She was small and very upright, with a peculiarly confident carriage of the head, which might indicate determination or, possibly, a mere resolution to get her money's worth. Her hair, perfectly dressed, was of the colour of a slow-worm. She called it fair. Her enemies said it reminded them of snakes. Her eyes were of a darker shade of ashen grey, verging on hazel. Her mouth was mobile, with thin lips and an expressive corner--the left-hand corner--and at this moment it suggested pert inquiry. Some people thought she had an expressive face, but then some people are singularly superficial in their mode of observation. There was really no power of expressing any feeling in the small, delicately cut face. It all lay in the mouth, in the left-hand corner thereof. "Well?" she said, and Luke's wonder gradually faded into admiration. "I give it up," he answered. She shrugged her shoulders in pretended disgust. "You are not polite," she said, with a glance at his stalwart person which might have indicated that there were atoning merits. "I must say you are not polite, Luke. I do not think I will tell you. It would be still more humiliating to learn that you have forgotten my existence." "You cannot be Agatha!" he exclaimed. "Can I not? It happens that I AM Agatha Ingham-Baker--at your service!" She swept him a low curtsey and sailed away to the mantelpiece, thereby giving him the benefit of the exquisite fit of her dress. She stood with one arm on the mantel-shelf, looking back at him over her shoulder, summing him up with a little introspective nod. "I should like to know why I cannot be Agatha," she asked, with that keen feminine scent for a personality which leads to the uttering of so much nonsense, and the brewing of so much mischief. "I never thought--" he began. "Yes?" He laughed and refused to go any farther, although she certainly made the way easy for him. "In fact," she said mockingly, "you are disappointed. You never expected me to turn out such a horrid--" "You know it isn't that," he interrupted, with a flash of his gloomy eyes. "Not now," she said quietly, glancing towards the door. "I hear Mrs. Harrington coming downstairs. You can tell me afterwards." Luke turned on his heel and greeted Mrs. Harrington with quite a pleasant smile, which did not belong to her by rights, but to the girl behind him.