“Perhaps you had better tell me about that matter of business next time I am here,” he suggested, with an abruptness which was almost brusque.  “I must go now.  I do not know why I have stayed so long.”

She held out her fingers.

“You are a very sudden person,” she declared, smiling at his discomfiture.  “If you must go!”

He scarcely touched her hand, anxious only to get away.  And then the door opened and a man of somewhat remarkable appearance entered the room with the air of a privileged person.  He was oddly dressed, with little regard to the fashion of the moment.  His black coat was cut after the mode of a past generation, his collar was of the type affected by Gladstone and his fellow-statesmen, his black bow was arranged with studied negligence and he showed more frilled white shirt-front than is usual in the daytime.  His silk hat was glossy but broad-brimmed; his masses of gray hair, brushed back from a high, broad forehead, gave him almost a patriarchal aspect.  His features were large and fairly well-shaped, but his mouth was weak and his cheeks lacked the color of a healthy life.  Tavernake stared at him open-mouthed.  He, for his part, looked at Tavernake as he might have looked at some strange wild animal.

“A thousand apologies, dear Elizabeth!” be exclaimed.  “I knocked, but I imagine that you did not hear me.  Knowing your habits, it did not occur to me that you might be engaged at this hour of the morning.”

“It is a young man from the house agent’s,” she announced indifferently, “come to see me about a flat.”

“In that case,” he suggested amiably, “I am, perhaps, not in the way.”

Elizabeth turned her head slightly and looked at him; he backed precipitately toward the door.

“In a few minutes,” he said.  “I will return in a few minutes.”

Tavernake attempted to follow his example.

“There is no occasion for your friend to leave,” he protested.  “If you have any instructions for us, a note to the office will always bring some one here to see you.”

She sat up on the couch and smiled at him.  His obvious embarrassment amused her.  It was a new sort of game, this, altogether.

“Come, Mr. Tavernake,” she said, “three minutes more won’t matter, will it?  I will not keep you longer than that, I promise.”

He came reluctantly a few steps back.

“I am sorry,” he explained, “but we really are busy this morning.”

“This is business,” she declared, still smiling at him pleasantly.  “My sister has filled you with suspicions about me.  Some of them may be justifiable, some are not.  I am not so rich as I should like some people to believe.  It is so much easier to live well, you know, when people believe that you are rolling in money.  Still, I am by no means a pauper.  I cannot afford to take Grantham House, but neither can I afford to go on living here.  I have decided to make a change, to try and economize, to try and live within my means.  Now will you bring me a list of small houses or flats, something at not more than say two or three hundred a year?  It shall be strictly a business proceeding.  I will pay you for your time, if that is necessary, and your commission in advance.  There, you can’t refuse my offer on those terms, can you?”