With a soft quick indrawn breath the young man took it. He was evidently as perplexed as she was. Only by an effort did he release the girl's slim hand and find his voice. "I am glad to meet you, Miss Enistor!" His voice broke the spell, and Alice became aware--at least she thought as much--that she had been acting foolishly. Of course he would be confused to meet the niece of the lady whose money he had inherited. That was the reason of his odd look and strange silence. But she would put him at his ease at once, since there was nothing to be gained by being stiff with a perfectly innocent person. And then--here came in the momentary memory again--she liked him at sight more than any one she had ever seen. She repeated his words. "I am glad to meet you, Mr. Montrose!" and then the two smiled at one another in a somewhat embarrassed way. "There's the gong," cried Mrs. Barrast gaily, "your arm, doctor. We shall have a pleasant dinner and a delightful evening!" "I am sure of that, Mrs. Barrast," said the other positively. "The evening has commenced most auspiciously." Alice asked herself what he meant and laid her hand on Montrose's arm. She did not get an answer to her mental question until much later. CHAPTER VI A CONVERSATION Dinner was served, not in the large dining-room, used on high days and festivals, but in a small octagonal apartment, reserved for such minor occasions. Its walls were of polished white wood, gaily painted with wreaths of flowers bound with knots of blue ribbon and held by naked cupids, dimpled and rosy. There was a blue-tiled fire-place in which stood a brass cradle for the flaming coals, though at present, the weather being warm, this was filled with ferns and bulrushes. The ceiling was painted with sunset clouds, the carpet was moss-green sprinkled with bunches of daisies, and the furniture was of cream-coloured wood. In the centre stood a round table of no great size, at which the hostess and her guests took their seats. Two smart parlour-maids attended to their wants, as Mrs. Barrast preferred to dispense with footmen and butler, save when she gave a state dinner to people she did not care about. "Frederick's friends, you know," she explained airily, when unfolding her napkin. "The people who like things-as-they-ought-to-be. I think things-as-they-ought-not-to-be are more amusing myself. More of a surprise, you know." "If you pushed that theory to extremes, Mrs. Barrast," said Dr. Eberstein in a dry way, "you would find the world excessively disagreeable." "Oh, I don't know, doctor. People in society all say the same things and do the same things and think the same things. I adore originality myself." "If originality made you uncomfortable you would change your mind." "I daresay. But that would be no novelty. I am always changing my mind!" "Consequently your nervous system gets out of order and you have to come to me to have it set right."