There was the sound of a light footfall down the long passage. ‘Here she is!’ said Roma. Maud entered, a fair vision, in her white dress and shady hat, with her bright eyes, clear, rose-tinted skin, happy smile and ready laugh. ‘Roma! Here I am, you see! Not so late as usual. Oh, I beg your pardon. Are you engaged?’ ‘No; this is our friend Signor Pagliadini, who is visiting us, and is anxious to be presented to you. He knew your brother in Italy.’ On hearing this, Maud’s face lighted up brightly, and she held out her hand. ‘I am always pleased to see any friend of my brother’s.’ There was an unconscious, fond pride in the way she spoke the words ‘my brother,’ which brought a keen sense of pain to Phil’s heart. It was hard, he felt, looking into his sister’s face, after eighteen long years of separation, that it was but a stranger’s welcome he received, and that its cordiality was only due to the fact that she believed him to be Tor’s friend. He was glad that he had not to say much, glad that she was unable to converse freely with him, and glad that preparations for the sitting were at once commenced. Poor Phil was not endowed with any very large amount of self-control, and to meet thus his only sister, and a sister whom he had greatly loved, was a hard task, and one which roused in his heart all the bitterness which had been nearly lulled to sleep. Time, however, brought him calmness, and he was soon able to listen to what the two girls were saying, whilst he appeared to be looking over some books of photographs. Roma knew that he could understand, although he could not speak English, so he was not afraid of taking an unfair advantage of his position. ‘Isn’t Phil a dear boy?’ Maud was saying, with her usual enthusiasm. ‘He says if things go on smoothly, he’ll take Aunt Olive and me to Italy in the winter. Won’t that be lovely! I do so want to travel, and I’ve never been out of England. He would have taken us to Switzerland this summer, only it’s too soon, he thinks, for him to go away; and there’s my birthday to get over, you know. But another summer he’ll take us, and he’ll let me do some mountaineering, he says. Won’t that be splendid! I should love to go up Mont Blanc, or the Matterhorn, or some really big mountain. I believe Phil’s done all the hardest. He’s just the most wonderful boy in the world.’ Roma let her talk on in her favourite strain, glad to catch the animated expression such conversation always gave to her. She wound up by her favourite and well-worn phrase: ‘Isn’t he just an angel-boy, Roma?’ ‘He is very kind and good.’ Maud laughed, and shook her head. ‘Ah, you don’t understand a bit. Lots and lots of people might be kind and good, but nobody could be like my Phil. I’m sure there isn’t such another brother in all the world. I can’t think now, however I managed to live without him.’ Roma smiled at her enthusiasm. Signor Pagliadini’s face was turned away.