“What a beautiful house to live in,” said Robin, “but, do you know, the number _isn’t_ 97 A. I looked as we came in, and it is No. 25.” “Is it? I ought to have been more careful,” answered Fräulein Hirsch. “It is wrong to be careless even in small matters.” Almost immediately Lady Etynge came in and greeted them, with a sort of gentle delight. She drew Robin down on to a sofa beside her and took her hand and gave it a light pat which was a caress. “Now you really _are_ here,” she said, “I have been so busy that I have been afraid I should not have time to show you the rooms before it was too late to make a change, if you thought anything might be improved.” “I am sure nothing can improve them,” said Robin, more dewy-eyed than usual and even a thought breathless, because this was really a sort of adventure, and she longed to ask if, by any chance, she would “do.” And she was so afraid that she might lose this amazingly good opportunity, merely because she was too young and inexperienced to know how she ought to broach the subject. She had not thought yet of asking Mademoiselle Vallé how it should be done. She was not aware that she looked at Lady Etynge with a heavenly, little unconscious appeal, which made her enchanting. Lady Etynge looked at her quite fixedly for an instant. “What a child you are! And what a colour your cheeks and lips are!” she said. “You are much—much prettier than Hélène, my dear.” She got up and brought a picture from a side table to show it to her. “I think she is lovely,” she said. “Is it became I am her mother?” “Oh, no! Not because you are her mother!” exclaimed Robin. “She is angelic!” She was rather angelic, with her delicate uplifted face and her communion veil framing it mistily. The picture was placed near them and Robin looked at is many times as they took their tea. To be a companion to a girl with a face like that would be almost too much to ask of one’s luck. There was actual yearning in Robin’s heart. Suddenly she realized that she had missed something all her life, without knowing that she missed it. It was the friendly nearness of youth like her own. How she hoped that she might make Lady Etynge like her. After tea was over, Lady Etynge spoke pleasantly to Fräulein Hirsch. “I know that you wanted to register a letter. There is a post-office just around the corner. Would you like to go and register it while I take Miss Gareth-Lawless upstairs? You have seen the rooms. You will only be away a few minutes.” Fräulein Hirsch was respectfully appreciative again. The letter really was important. It contained money which she sent monthly to her parents. This month she was rather late, and she would be very glad to be allowed to attend to the matter without losing a post. So she went out of the drawing-room and down the stairs, and Robin heard the front door close behind her with a slight thud. She had evidently opened and closed it herself without waiting for the footman.