"Oh! Likewise ah! Zola! Now we're getting at the secret. No wonder you're so damn studious. Zola, indeed! Well, so long. See you to-morrow. Give my love to the girl.... I say, I suppose you haven't got Zola in English, have you?"
The little red-armed servant beamed an amiable recognition.
"Very hot day," rather louder. They were in the passage.
The door of the sitting-room opened, and Mr. Aked's niece stood before him, her finger on her lips and her eyebrows raised in a gesture of warning. She suddenly smiled, almost laughed. Richard remembered that smile for a long time afterwards. It transformed not only a girl's face, but the whole of Carteret Street. He had never seen anything like it. Shaking hands in silence, he followed her into the room, and she gently closed the door.
"Uncle's not well," she explained. "He's asleep now, and I don't want you to wake him. In this house, you know, if any one speaks in the passage, you can hear it even in the attic. Uncle was caught in the rain last night; he has a very weak chest, and gets bronchitis directly."
"I'm awfully sorry I disturbed you," said Richard. "The fact is I was down this way, and I thought I'd call." It sounded a sufficiently reasonable excuse, he considered. "I hope you weren't asleep too."
"Yes, I was dozing in this chair." She put her head back, and drummed with her fingers lightly on the arms of the chair. "But I'm glad you've called."
"Oh! Because one wants to see some one--some one new, especially after being in a sick-room."
"You've been sitting up late." His tone was accusing. It seemed to him that somehow they were already intimate.
"Only till three o'clock, and I slept later this morning. How changeable the sun is to-day!" She moved her chair, and he saw her in profile. Her hands were on her lap. She coaxed a foot stool into position with her toes, and placed her feet on it.
"You look just like a picture in this week's 'Illustrated London News'--I mean in general pose," he exclaimed.
"Do I? How nice that sounds! What is it?"
"Whistler's 'Portrait of his Mother.' But I hope you don't think I think you look old."
"How old do I look?" She turned her head slightly towards him.
"About twenty-three, only I imagine you're much younger."