“It’s quite too heavy for you!” he answered.

“Oh, but I’ve carried it often before now.”

“Then you shouldn’t!”

“But I have to!”

“No,” said Ravenslee, shaking his head, “you should let your brother bring it up for you.”

“My brother!” she exclaimed, pausing to look her amazement.  And again as she stood thus poised above him, he took joy to note the warmth of her rich colouring, the soft, round column of her white throat, the gracious breadth of hip and shoulder.

“You know I have a brother?”

“Oh, yes, Spike—­er—­that is, Arthur and I are quite—­er—­ancient cronies—­pals, you know—­friends, I mean—­” Mr. Ravenslee was actually stammering.

“Oh, really?” she said softly; but all at once, becoming aware of the fixity of his regard, the colour deepened in her cheek, the long lashes drooped and, turning away, she went on up the stair.

“It’s a long way up yet!  Hadn’t you better let me take it?”

“Not for worlds!” he answered.

“Isn’t it getting heavier?” she enquired, as they climbed the next flight.

“Decidedly heavier!”

“Then please,” said she, slackening her pace, “please let me take it!”

“On the contrary,” he answered, his gaze on her slender foot and ankle, “I should like to carry it for you all my—­er—­ah, that is—­I mean—­”

Mr. Ravenslee was stammering again.

“Yes?”

He was aware that the shapely foot had faltered in its going.

“As often as I may, Miss Hermione.”

Hereupon the shapely foot halted altogether, and once again she turned to look at him in wide-eyed surprise.

“You know my name?”

“I learned it from Arthur, and—­I shall never forget it!”

“Why not?”

“Well, because it is rather uncommon and—­very beautiful!”

“Oh!” said Hermione, and went on up the stair again, yet not before he had seen the flush was back in her cheek.

“Are you getting tired yet?” she enquired, without looking round.

“Not appreciably,” he answered, “but if you think I need a rest—­”

“No, no!” she laughed, “we should never get off these frightful stairs!”

“Even that might have its compensations!” he murmured.

“And we’ve been much longer than if you’d let me carry it up myself.”

“But then we’ve no cause for panting haste, have we?” he suggested.

“And we have four more flights to climb.”

“So few!” he sighed.

“You see, I live at the very tip-top.”

“Good!” said he.

At this she glanced down at him over the sweep of her shoulder.

“Why ’good’?” she demanded.

“Because I also live at the tip-top.”

“Do you—­oh!”

“With the excellent Mrs. Trapes.”

“But I thought she had lost her lodger?”

“She had the—­er—­extreme good fortune to find a new one to-day.”