They had been standing with their faces to the fire, and after he had uttered these last words Osmond turned round again to the room. Before Rosier had time to rejoin he perceived that a gentleman—a stranger—had just come in, unannounced, according to the Roman custom, and was about to present himself to the master of the house. The latter smiled blandly, but somewhat blankly; the visitor was a handsome man, with a large, fair beard—evidently an Englishman.
"You apparently don't recognise me," he said, with a smile that expressed more than Osmond's.
"Ah yes, now I do; I expected so little to see you."
Rosier departed, and went in direct pursuit of Pansy. He sought her, as usual, in the neighbouring room, but he again encountered Mrs. Osmond in his path. He gave this gracious lady no greeting—he was too righteously indignant; but said to her crudely—"Your husband is awfully cold-blooded."
She gave the same mystical smile that he had noticed before.
"You can't expect every one to be as hot as yourself."
"I don't pretend to be cold, but I am cool. What has he been doing to his daughter?"
"I have no idea."
"Don't you take any interest?" Rosier demanded, feeling that she too was irritating.
For a moment she answered nothing. Then—
"No!" she said abruptly, and with a quickened light in her eye which directly contradicted the word.
"Excuse me if I don't believe that. Where is Miss Osmond?"
"In the corner, making tea. Please leave her there."
Rosier instantly discovered the young girl, who had been
