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Rising, Peter
found himself facing a tall, rather slender woman of between thirty-five
and forty. It did not need a second glance from even Peter's untrained
eye, to realize the suggestion of breeding in the whole atmosphere about
her. The gown was of the simplest summer material, but its very
simplicity, and a certain lack of "latest fashion" rather than
"old-fashionedness" gave it a quality of respectability. Every line of
the face, the set of the head, and even more the carriage of the figure,
conveyed the "look of race."
"I must thank you, Mr. Stirling," she said, speaking deliberately, in a
low, mellow voice, by no means so common then as our women's imitation
of the English tone and inflexion has since made it, "for suiting your
time to mine on such short notice."
"You were very kind," said Peter, "to comply with my request. Any time
was convenient to me."
"I am glad it suited you."
Peter had expected to be asked to sit down, but, nothing being said,
began his explanation.


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