Amber felt a little nervous in observing the attitude of Mr. Winwood in respect of Josephine. If he were to give any sign of returning Josephine’s--well, not antipathy--uncongeniality would be a better word, Amber felt that she should have just cause for annoyance. The result of her observation of him was to relieve her mind of its burden of doubt. He looked more than pleased when he found himself face to face with Miss West. And then it was that Amber first came to perceive that Pierce Winwood was a very good-looking man. He had a frank way of standing in front of one that somehow suggested a schoolboy thirsting for information from his betters. “I thought that London was a place where one never found out the name of one’s next door neighbour and never met the same person twice, but I am glad to discover my mistake,” said he when Josephine had shaken hands with him. And then Amber breathed freely. And Josephine treated him with positive cordiality--“_How amazingly well a woman can conceal her real feelings_,” was Amber’s thought when she noticed how pleasantly her friend smiled looking straight into Mr. Winwood’s face while she said: “I think our life here quite delightful: we need only meet a second time the people whom we like. In the country one is compelled to take the goats with the sheep: one has no choice in the matter.” “A second time?” said he. “What about a third time? Is a third time possible?” “Almost inevitable--if one passes the second time,” said Josephine. “You are building up my hopes,” he said, turning away from her. She was petting the Persian cat, Shagpat by name. And at this moment Sir Creighton entered the room and his daughter noticed the quick scrutiny that he gave to the face of the younger man. She also noticed the return of that nervous awkwardness which the younger man had displayed on meeting her on the Sunday afternoon. It never occurred to her that the man who called himself Pierce Winwood and who said that his father had once known hers might be an impostor. Sir Creighton shook hands with him and said he was glad that he was able to come. “There are so many things going on just now, are there not?” he said. “And I suppose you are anxious to attend everything, Mr. Winwood.” “One must lunch somewhere,” said Amber. “Lunch is a sort of postscript to one’s breakfast in London town,” said Sir Creighton. “I don’t suppose that any one except we working men can get over breakfast before eleven. What time does your father breakfast on the morning after a late sitting of the House, Josephine?” “He is invariably the first one of the household to be in the breakfast room,” said Josephine.