But there is a vast difference between fashionable London in May or June and in October. More than the half of the houses are shut up in the late autumn, and Isla had no fear of meeting anyone who would recognize her. Her hansom drew up, jingling, at the door of one of the most important houses, beautifully appointed outside, with real lace curtains at the windows and with everything indicating ample means. A sedate, middle-aged manservant of irreproachable mien noiselessly opened the door and stood at attention to hear Isla’s message. "Mrs. Bodley-Chard is at home, Miss, but she only sees callers by appointment," he said civilly, but firmly. "Please to take my name," said Isla quietly, "and tell her I have come from Madame Vibert in Oxford Street." The man shook his head. "There have been three already this morning, and my mistress has told me she will not see any more. She lies down after luncheon. Still, Miss, I can tell her you are here if you will kindly step in." Isla was grateful, and the respectful manner of the man was like balm to her perturbed spirit. Here she felt at home, and beyond doubt the man knew--for the preceptions of his class are very keen in certain directions--that she differed in almost every essential from those who had come before her. He placed a chair for her by the fireplace in the pretty lounge-hall and departed upstairs. Isla glanced round her interestedly. The house was very bright, painted in white with warm crimson walls, and full of pretty things. It was all very modern, however, and a trifle fantastic. A very large brown bear, mounted on a pedestal and standing up with a pole between his forepaws, struck rather a grotesque note. It was neither a useful nor an ornamental object, and it was instantly banned by Isla’s simple, correct taste. The pictures, of which there were many, all struck the same bold note of bizarre taste, and the effect was neither restful nor pleasing. Isla was not kept waiting long. "Mrs. Bodley-Chard will see you," said the man when he re-appeared. She followed him up the white and crimson staircase, her feet giving forth no sound in the deep, luxurious tread of the Axminster carpet. The house seemed to widen out on the upper landing and gave an impression of roominess. The servant opened a door a little way along the corridor and announced Isla by name. She was ushered into a room in semi-darkness--a sort of boudoir, luxuriously furnished, whose atmosphere was laden with perfume and with the heavy odour of many cut flowers. A smart French maid with a most coquettish cap moved back from the side of a large couch when the door opened, and as she stepped out of the room she took a very keen look at Isla. A voice came out of the gloom--a somewhat thin, fretful voice. "Come forward, please, to where I can see you. You have called at a very awkward hour. I expressly wrote to Madame Vibert that I would not see anyone after lunch."