But I was too puzzled by Lydia’s reappearance to tear myself away. What had she to do with Vio? How did she get the right to go in and out of Vio’s room with this matter-of-course authority? In a corner of the hall, beside the window looking over the Common, was an armchair in which Vio often sat when taking her breakfast up-stairs and glancing over her correspondence. I sank into it now, and waited. Sooner or later Lydia must come out again. This she did, some twenty minutes later, dainty and nonchalant. "Lydia," I cried, springing to my feet, "what in the name of Heaven are you doing here?" "You see." The parcel she had taken from Boosey was now undone, revealing some three or four pairs of corsets. Laying the bundle on the table Vio used for her breakfast-tray the girl began to roll the corsets neatly. There were so many questions I wanted to ask that I hardly knew where to begin. "How long have you been coming to—to see my wife?" "Oh, not so very long, a month perhaps." "Did you know I was here?" "Why, sure." "Is that what brought you?" She glanced up sidewise from her work, with one of those glances she alone could fling. "Well, you _have_ got a nerve. Suppose I said yes?" "Who—who told you where to find me?" "Who do you think?" "Miss Averill?" "No; it wasn’t Miss Averill. As far as I can make out little old Milly doesn’t give you a second thought, now that she knows you’re in the bosom of your family." "Is that true?" "Why, of course it’s true. Did you want to think she was pining away?" "Well, who did tell you?" "Why should I want any one to tell me? Ever since I’ve been with Clotilde I’m always on the lookout for new customers. I get a commission on every pair." "But it wasn’t for the commission you came to see Mrs. Harrowby." "Well, what was it for then?" "That’s what I want you to tell me." "How much did you tell me when you disappeared from the Barcelona over two years ago?" "I told you as much as I could tell any one." "You didn’t tell me your name was Harrowby." "I didn’t know it." She swung round from her work with the parcel. "You didn’t—what?" I tapped my forehead. "Shell-shock. I’d—I’d forgotten who I was." A flip of her slender hand dismissed this explanation, as she resumed her task.