She was dressed in Quaker gray, and seemed more repressed and more mature than when he had first caught sight of her. But she had the power, for all her quietness, of once more making his pulse skip a beat or two.
"I was to look over the pictures," he explained, noticing her hesitancy.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible to-day," she told him in a tone of constraint.
"But your aunt asked me to," he reminded her.
"I know, but there has been an accident."
"A serious one?" he asked.
"I hope not. But my Aunt Georgina slipped on the attic steps and sprained her ankle. It's paining her a great deal, and she has gone to bed."
"Could I possibly see her?"
A ghost of a smile appeared on the girl's face. It would not be easy to explain to him that no living man had ever beheld her Aunt Georgina in bed. So she merely shook her head.
"Then how about your Aunt Lavinia?"
