A door opened and there were heavy footsteps. “Look out. The governor.” He seized Lola’s arm and in a panic drew her into the shadow of a large armoire. Her heart jumped into her mouth!—It was her hero in the flesh, the man at whose feet she had worshipped,—within a few inches of her, walking slowly, with his hands behind his back, his mouth compressed and a sort of hit-me-why-don’t-you in his eye. Still with Simpkins’s hand upon her arm she slipped out,—not to be seen, not with any thought of herself, but to watch Fallaray stride along the corridor; and get the wonder of a first look. A door banged and he was gone. “A pretty near thing,” said Simpkins. “It always happens like that. I don’t suppose he would have noticed us. Mostly he sees nothing but his thoughts,—looks inwards, I mean. But rules is rules. He lives in that wing of the ’ouse,—has a library and a bedroom there and another room fitted up as a gym where he goes through exercises to keep hisself fit. Give ’im enough in the House to keep ’im fit, you’d think, wouldn’t yer? A wonderful man.—Come on, Miss, nick through here.” He opened a door, ran lightly up a short flight of stairs and came back again into the servant’s passage. “’Ere you are,” he said and smiled brilliantly, putting in, as he thought, good work. This girl——! “I’ll be glad to see you ’ome,” he added anxiously. Lola said, “Thank you, but I have some one waiting for me,” and entered. IX “Well!” said Miss Breezy. “I hope so,” said Lola, kissing the ear that was presented to her. “I’m just rearranging my things. Her Ladyship’s just given me some new pictures. They used to be in the morning room, but she got sick of them and handed ’em over to me. I’m going to hang them up.” She might have added that nearly everything that the room contained had been given to her by Lady Feo with a similar generosity but her sense of humor was not very keen or else her sense of loyalty was. At any rate, there she stood in the middle of a nice airy room with something around her head to keep the dust out of her hair, wearing a pair of gloves, a stepladder near at hand. There were six fair-sized canvases in gold frames,—seascapes; bold, excellent work, with the wind blowing over them and spray coming out that made the lips all salty. They made you hear the mewing of sea gulls. “Lady Feo bought them to help a young artist. He was killed in the War. She hates the sea, it makes her sick, and doesn’t want to be reminded of anything sad. I don’t wonder, and anyway, they’ll look very nice here. Do you like them?” Lola had sized them up in a glance. She too would have turned them out. They seemed to her rough and draughty. “Yes,” she said, “they’re very good, aren’t they?” She mounted the ladder and held out her hands. She had come to ask a favor. She might as well make herself popular at once. “Hand them up, Auntie, and I’ll hang them for you.”