Captain Grey was standing by the window in the dining room, keeping her company while she ate. He turned his head aside as she spoke, but not before she had noticed on his sensitive face the odd and touching look that always came over it at any mention of his sister. Evidently he worshiped her, and yet Lexy was certain that he was somehow disappointed in her. “She likes you very much,” he said. “I’m glad,” said Lexy; “but how did you manage to keep the roses so wonderfully fresh, Captain Grey?” “The doctor wrapped them for me—some rather special way, you know—damp paper, and then a cloth. He told me not to open them until I gave them to you. Very clever chap, isn’t he?” “He is!” agreed Lexy, with a faint smile. “Mind if I smoke, Miss Moran?” asked the young man. “Thanks!” He lit a cigarette and sat down on the window sill. He was silent, and so was Lexy, for she fancied that he had something he wished to say. “Miss Moran,” he said, at last, “you’ll go there again to see her, won’t you?” Lexy considered for a moment. “Why?” she asked. “Why did you think I wouldn’t?” “I was afraid you might think—it’s the atmosphere of the place—I’m sure of it—that made you nervous the other afternoon. It’s something about the place, you know. I’ve felt it myself. I was afraid you wouldn’t care to go again, and I don’t like to think of her there—alone.” “She’s not alone,” observed Lexy blandly. “She has her clever husband.” “Yes, I know that, of course, but he’s—well, he’s not very cheery,” said the young man earnestly. Lexy couldn’t help laughing. “No, he’s not very cheery,” she admitted. “Of course I’ll go again—this afternoon, if you’d like.” “I say! You are good!” he cried. “I know jolly well that you don’t want to go.” “I do, though,” declared Lexy. “Shall we walk over?” “If you don’t mind,” said Lexy, “I’ll go by myself. There’s something I want to attend to first. I’ll meet you there at four o’clock.” “Right-o!” said he. “Then you won’t mind if I go there for lunch?” She assured him that she wouldn’t. “You poor dear thing!” she added, to herself. His solicitude touched her. He seemed to feel himself responsible for her, as if she were a very delicate and rather weak-minded child. “You’re not very cheery, either!” she thought. And indeed he was not. His meeting with his sister had upset him badly. Ever since he had first seen her, he had been troubled and anxious and downcast. “And that’s because she’s not human,” thought Lexy. “She’s beautiful, and gentle, and all that, but she’s like a ghost. Of course it bothers him!” She did not give much more thought to Captain Grey, however. As soon as he left the house, she went upstairs into the little sewing room, and until lunch time she was busy writing the clearest and briefest account she could of what had occurred. This she put into an envelope, which she addressed to Mr. Charles Houseman and laid it on her bureau.