But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. Sir John stood upon the threshold. In this state it would have been all over with him, as, being stunned by the fall, it was some moments before he could recover himself, if another party had not unexpectedly come to his rescue. “Has he accused any one yet?” “Not yet,” he answered. ” It was a tiny little room, daintily furnished, individual in its quaint colouring, and the masses of perfumed flowers set in strange and unexpected places. They either ran to see or ran for shelter. I don’t half disagree with you, Vee, really; only thing is, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off.
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