To her own unutterable vexation, Gertrude found herself rather cowed by the man and his indifferent politeness, through which she seemed to detect the lurking contempt; and as his glance of cold irony fell upon her from time to time, from beneath the heavy lids, she found herself beginning to take part not only against herself but also against the type of woman to which she belonged. Having made the necessary adjustments, and given the necessary directions, Darrell went over to the fire-place, and cast himself into a lounge, where the leather screen shut out his well-appointed person from Gertrude's sight. She, on her part, set about her task without enjoyment, and was glad when it was over and she could pack up the dark-slides. As she was unscrewing the camera from the stand, the curtain before the doorway was pushed aside for the second time, and a man entered unannounced. At the same moment Darrell advanced from behind his screen, and the two men met in the middle of the room. "Delighted to see you back, my dear fellow." It seemed to Gertrude that a shade of deference had infused itself into the artist's manner, as he cordially clasped hands with the new comer. This person was a tall, sinewy man of from thirty-five to forty years of age, with stooping shoulders and a brown beard. From her corner by the easel Miss Lorimer could see his face, and her casual glance falling upon it was arrested by a sudden sense of recognition. Where had she seen them before; the ample forehead, the clear, grey eyes, the rough yet generous lines of the features? This man's face was sunburnt, cheery, smiling; the face which it recalled had been pale, haggard, worn with watching and sorrow. Then, as by a flash, she saw it all again before her eyes; the dainty room flooded with October sunlight; the dead woman lying there with her golden hair spread on the pillow; the bearded, averted face, and stooping form of the figure that crouched by the window. "I only hope," she reflected, "that he will not recognise me. The recollections that the sight of me would summon up could scarcely be pleasant. I have no wish to enact the part of skeleton at the feast." With a desponding sense that she had no right to her existence, Gertrude gathered up her possessions and made her way across the room. Darrell came forward slowly, "Oh, put down those heavy things," he said. Lord Watergate, for it was he, went over to the fire-place and stood there warming his hands. "May I trouble you to have a cab called?" Gertrude spoke in her most dignified manner. "Certainly. But won't you come to the fire?" Darrell rang a bell which stood on the mantelshelf, and indicated to Gertrude a chair by the screen. Gertrude, however, preferred to stand, and for some moments the three people on the tiger-skin hearthrug stared into the fire in silence. Then Darrell said in an offhand manner: "Miss Lorimer has been kind enough to photograph my 'Grand Canal' for me."