As she dressed, on the afternoon of her arrival, there was a tap at the door and Nancy's voice said, "May I come in, dear? I want to see what you are going to wear." "Yes, come in. I'm almost ready." Echo had chosen a gown of black _tulle_ with a gold rose at the brocaded girdle and Nancy looked at her admiringly. "Gracious!" she exclaimed. "That black--it positively sets your hair on _fire_! It makes you so pale, though. Do put a little dab of pink on your cheeks, Echo; you make me look positively lurid beside you!" There was some truth in the comparison, for the younger girl was like a wild-rose, quivering with life and colour. She took the hare's-foot and came to Echo coaxingly. "Just a little tinge ... like that. There! Now you are just perfect." "Who's coming to tea, Nancy?" "Oh, only a handful--Mrs. Moncure. You met her last year--and Mr. Meredith: he's the District Attorney--and the Shirley boys: they're very young and College-y--and five or six others. I only asked a few." The Shirleys were first to appear and were followed by Mrs. Moncure, a mellow, winy woman with a white gown that smacked of the _Rue de la Paix_, and a complexion exquisitely made up. She greeted Nancy with a smiling graciousness, nodded to the gentlemen, and sat down on the sofa beside Echo. "It was so sweet of Nancy to ask me to come," she said. "I've never had half a chance to chat with you before, though we met last year at a particularly stupid reception or something. This is so much more home-y, isn't it?" She dropped into smalltalk, rippling and charming, while Nancy poured the tea, and when Mr. Meredith presently arrived she presented him. "Our District Attorney," she announced. "The Terror of the Lawless!" "Now don't tell me I look a terror!" said he, beseechingly to Echo. "I'm a most mild-mannered man in private life, am I not, Mrs. Moncure?" "I'm not sure yet whether I can give you a character," she answered. "I haven't seen this year's subscription-list to my pet charity." "Blackmail!" the other asserted indignantly. "I'll subpoena you all as witnesses. And this is how I am treated for protecting you from criminality!" "I like _that_!" exclaimed Nancy wickedly. "When burglars hide in our alcoves and jump out and shoot us when we're not looking! Poor Mr. Craig! _I_ think you ought to be impeached, or impounded, or whatever they call it." He laughed. "You know of the Craig affair, of course, Miss Allen," he said, turning. Echo was glad for the touch of rouge on her cheeks. "Yes," she answered. "Oh, yes." Her gaze was on the basket of tulips on the tea-table, but she was really seeing Craig's smouldering black eyes--the lowering brows--the ruthless clamped lips--as she had seen his face in that moment of revealment in his study.