She put out her hand, barely touched the fingers of the stranger, and her keen, probing, inquisitorial eyes of palest grey wandered searchingly over the face and figure; while her haughty tone was chill—­as the damp breath of a vault.

Catching sight of Hero she started back, and exclaimed with undisguised displeasure: 

“What!  A dog in my sitting-room!  Who brought that animal here?”

Regina laid a protecting hand on the head of her favourite, and said timidly, in a voice that faltered from embarrassment: 

“It is my dog.  Please, madam, allow me to keep him; he will disturb no one; shall give no trouble.”

“Impossible!  Dogs are my pet aversion.  I would not even allow my daughter to accept a lovely Italian greyhound which Count Fagdalini sent her on her last birthday.  That huge brute there would give me hysterics before dinner-time.”

“Then you shall not see him.  I will keep him always out of eight; he shall never annoy you.”

“Very feasible in a Fifth Avenue house!  Do you propose to lock him up always in your own chamber?  How absurd!”

She touched the bell, and added: 

“It always saves trouble to start exactly as we expect or intend to continue.  I cannot endure dogs—­never could, and yours must be disposed of at once.”

Pitying the distress so eloquently printed on the face of the girl, Mr. Roscoe interposed: 

“Strike, but hear me!  Don’t banish the poor fellow so summarily.  He can’t go mad before May or June, if then; and at least let her keep him a few days.  She feels strange and lonely, and it will comfort her to have him for a while.”

“Nonsense, Elliott!  Terry, tell Farley I shall want the carriage in half an hour, and meantime ask him to come here and help you take out this dog.  We have no room for any such pests.  Send Hattie to show this young lady to her own room.”

Mr. Roscoe shrugged his shoulder, and closely inspected his seal ring.

There was an awkward silence.  Mrs. Palma stirred the coals with the poker, and at last asked abruptly: 

“Miss Orme, I presume you have breakfasted?”

“I do not wish any, thank you.”

Something in her quiet tone attracted attention, and as the lady and gentleman turned to look at her, both noticed a brilliant flush on her cheek, a peculiar sparkle dancing in her eyes.

Passing her arm through the handle of her satchel, she put both her hands upon Hero’s silver collar.

“Hattie will show you up to your room, Miss Orme; and if you need anything call upon her for it.  Farley, take that dog away, and do not let me see him here again.”

The blunt but kind-hearted coachman looked irresolute, glancing first at his mistress, and then pityingly at the girl.  As he advanced to obey, Regina said in a quiet but clear and decisive tone: 

“Don’t you touch him.  He is mine, and no one shall take him from me.  I am sorry, Mrs. Palma, that I have annoyed you so much, and I have no right to force unpleasant things upon you, even if I had the power.  Come, Hero! we will find a place somewhere; New York is large enough to hold us both.  Good-bye, Mr. Roscoe.  Good-day, Mrs. Palma.”