His reflections were cut short by the stately entrance of the lady he was thinking about. And Miss Pearl _was_ stately, being a tall and nobly-formed woman, who walked in quite a majestic way. She had large feet, large hands, a large bust, and large limbs--indeed, she was large in every way, and looked more like the Venus of Milo than a modern woman. Her face was pale and grave and clear-cut, and she had a rather severe mouth with compressed lips. To add to her resemblance to the heathen goddess, her hair was smoothed back from her marble forehead and coiled behind in a simple Greek knot. In a calm and graceful way she moved forward, with her large brown unwinking eyes fastened on the bewildered face of the young man. Those eyes almost hypnotised Ralph, for their gaze was so steady, and made him think that after all she was less like Venus than like the ox-eyed Juno. "You are Mr. Shawe?" she said, in a low, deep contralto voice. "Yes, Miss Pearl," he stammered; then he observed her well-cut, tailor-made dress, which was simplicity itself, and worn with a linen collar. But it was the material that brought a startled look into his eyes. "You--you wear a--a Harris tweed dress!" he gasped. Miss Pearl eyed him with grave surprise. "Why should I not?" she asked. CHAPTER XX A MUSIC HALL ARTIST Miss Pearl's question was awkward to answer on the spur of the moment, as may be easily guessed. Ralph had intended to lead gradually up to the object of his visit; but thrown off his guard by the sight of the dress, he had committed himself in a most untimely manner. While thinking of a possible answer which would delay explanations he stared hard at Miss Pearl, trying to guess what kind of a woman she was. From the furnishing of the room, from her looks and severe mode of dress, he took her to be a religious woman of a Puritanic cast, who had abjured the pomps and vanities of the world. Yet she was a music-hall dancer, and that profession did not suit either her surroundings or her appearance. "I shall explain why I made that remark shortly," said Shawe, evading a direct reply as well as he was able; "and, truth to tell, my errand is not a very pleasant one." Miss Pearl looked at the card she held in her large white hand, and pondered thoughtfully. "Mr. Ralph Shawe," she said, in her heavy voice. "Ah! yes, I remember now. Perhaps, Mr. Ralph Shawe, I can guess your errand." "Perhaps you can," muttered Shawe, wondering what she would say. "Sir Joseph Branwin," pursued the dancer, "told me about you, as an undesirable suitor for the hand of his daughter. Am I right in assuming that you have called to enlist my sympathies?" "Enlist your sympathies?" repeated the visitor, staring. "Yes. You want me," continued Miss Pearl, in a ponderously playful manner, "to ask Sir Joseph to permit you to pay your addresses. I shall do so with pleasure, as I have every sympathy with you and Miss Branwin."