Before she could answer, he loosened her hands from his neck and said, 'Come and look at yourself in the glass. Come and see how small you are compared to the other things in the room.' And with his arms round her shoulders he led her to the dressing-table. 'The other things?' laughed Lucy; but like a flame the thought was leaping in her brain, 'Now what shall I do if when I look into this I don't see myself but Vera? It's _accustomed_ to Vera....' 'Why, she's shutting her eyes. Open them, little Love,' said Wemyss, standing with her before the glass and seeing in it that though he held her in front of it she wasn't looking at the picture of wedded love he and she made, but had got her eyes tight shut. With his free hand he took off her hat and threw it on to the sofa; then he laid his head on hers and said, 'Now look.' Lucy obeyed; and when she saw the sweet picture in the glass the face of the girl looking at her broke into its funny, charming smile, for Everard at that moment was at his dearest, Everard boyishly loving her, with his good-looking, unlined face so close to hers and his proud eyes gazing at her. He and she seemed to set each other off; they were becoming to each other. Smiling at him in the glass, a smile tremulous with tenderness, she put up her hand and stroked his face. 'Do you know who you've married?' she asked, addressing the man in the glass. 'Yes,' said Wemyss, addressing the girl in the glass. 'No you don't,' she said. 'But I'll tell you. You've married the completest of fools.' 'Now what has the little thing got into its head this time?' he said, kissing her hair, and watching himself doing it. 'Everard, you must help me,' she murmured, holding his face tenderly against hers. 'Please, my beloved, help me, teach me----' 'That, Mrs. Wemyss, is a very proper attitude in a wife,' he said. And the four people laughed at each other, the two Lucys a little quiveringly. 'Now come and I'll introduce you to your sitting-room,' he said, disengaging himself. 'We'll have tea up there. The view is really magnificent.' XIX The wind made more noise than ever at the top of the house, and when Wemyss tried to open the door to Vera's sitting-room it blew back on him. 'Well I'm damned,' he said, giving it a great shove. 'Why?' asked Lucy nervously. 'Come in, come in,' he said impatiently, pressing the door open and pulling her through. There was a great flapping of blinds and rattling of blind cords, a whirl of sheets of notepaper, an extra wild shriek of the wind, and then Wemyss, hanging on to the door, shut it and the room quieted down. 'That slattern Lizzie!' he exclaimed, striding across to the fireplace and putting his finger on the bell-button and keeping it there. 'What has she done?' asked Lucy, standing where he had left her just inside the door. 'Done? Can't you see?' 'You mean'--she could hardly get herself to mention the fatal thing--'you mean--the window?' 'On a day like this!'