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much the better,” Anna declared cheerfully. “The smallest will do for me quite well.”

      Mrs. White looked mysteriously about the room as though to be sure that no one was listening.

      “I should like you to come here,” she said. “It’s a great deal for a young lady who’s alone in the world, as I suppose you are at present, to have a respectable home, and I do not think in such a case that private apartments are at all desirable. We have a very nice set of young people here too just at present, and you would soon make some friends. I will take you for thirty-five shillings a week. Please don’t let any one know that.”

      “I have no idea what it costs to live in London,” Anna said, “but I should like very much to come for a short time if I might.”

      “Certainly,” Mrs. White said. “Two days’ notice shall be sufficient on either side.”

      “And I may bring my luggage in and send that cabman away?” Anna asked. “Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago.”

      “Cabmen are so trying,” Mrs. White assented. “You need have no further trouble. The manservant shall bring your trunks in and pay the fare too, if you like.”

      Anna drew out her purse at once.

      “You are really a good Samaritan,” she declared. “I am perfectly certain that that man meant to be rude to me. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington.”

      Mrs. White rang the bell.

      “Come upstairs,” she said, “and I will show you your room. And would you mind hurrying a little. You won’t want to be late the first evening, and it’s ten minutes past seven now. Gracious, there’s the gong. This way, my dear – and – you’ll excuse my mentioning it, but a quiet blouse and a little chiffon, you know, will be quite sufficient. It’s your first evening, and early impressions do count for so much. You understand me, I’m sure.”

      Anna was a little puzzled, but she only laughed.

      “Perhaps, as I’ve only just arrived,” she remarked, “I might be forgiven if I do not change my skirt. I packed so hurriedly that it will take me a long time to find my things.”

      “Certainly,” Mrs. White assured her. “Certainly. I’ll mention it. You’re tired, of course. This is your room. The gong will go at seven-thirty. Don’t be late if you can help it.”

      Anna was not late, but her heart sank within her when she entered the drawing-room. It was not a hopeful looking group. Two or three podgy-looking old men with wives to match, half-a-dozen overdressed girls, and a couple of underdressed American ones, who still wore the clothes in which they had been tramping half over London since breakfast time. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. What had she to do with such as these? She had hard work to keep a smiling face, as Mrs. White, who had risen to greet her, proceeded with a formal, and from Anna’s point of view, a wholly unnecessary round of introductions. And then suddenly – a relief. A young man – almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes – came across the room to her.

      “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. “I am very glad that you have come here. I heard from David about you only this morning.”

      “You are marvellously like your brother,” Anna said, beaming upon him. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. Where can we sit down and talk?”

      He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand.

      “Let me introduce my friend to you,” Courtlaw said. “Arthur, this is Miss Pellissier – Mr. Brendon. Brendon and I are great chums,” he went on nervously. “We are clerks in the same bank. I don’t think that the rest of the people here like us very well, do they, Arthur, so we’re obliged to be friends.”

      Anna shook hands with Brendon – a young man also, but older and more self-possessed than Sydney Courtlaw.

      “Sydney is quite right, Miss Pellissier,” he said. “He and I don’t seem to get on at all with our fellow-guests, as Mrs. White calls them. You really ought not to stay here and talk to us. It is a most inauspicious start for you.”

      “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?”

      “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. “Her husband was a county councillor, and she has a niece who comes to see her in a carriage. I wish she wouldn’t look like that at us over her glasses.”

      Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door.

      “Dinner is served, ma’am,” he announced to Mrs. White.

      There was no rush. Everything was done in a genteel and ordinary way, but on the other hand, there was no lingering. Anna found herself next Sydney Courtlaw, with his friend close at hand. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. As a rule, Courtlaw told her softly, he talked right and left, and to everybody throughout the whole of the meal – to-night he was almost silent, and seemed to devote his whole attention to staring at Anna. After the first courses however she scarcely noticed him. Her two new friends did their best to entertain her.

      “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. Are you going to write a novel?”

      “Not I,” she answered gaily. “I came to London unexpectedly, and my friends could not take me in. I had a vague sort of idea that this was the region where one finds apartments, so I told my cabman to drive in this direction while I sat inside his vehicle and endeavoured to form a plan of campaign. He brought me past this house, and I thought I would call and leave your brother’s letter. Then I saw Mrs. White – ”

      “No more,” Sydney Courtlaw begged, laughingly. “You were booked of course. An unexpected vacancy, wasn’t it? Every one comes in on unexpected vacancy.”

      “And they go?”

      “When they get the chance. It really isn’t so easy to go as it seems. We have come to the conclusion, Brendon and I, that Mrs. White is psychologically gifted. She throws a sort of spell over us all. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. We simply can’t get away. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table – Bullding his name is. He will tell you confidentially that he simply hates the place. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. Everyone will grumble to you confidentially – Miss Ellicot, she’s our swagger young lady, you know – up there, next to Miss White, she will tell you that it is so out of the world here, so far away from everyone one knows. Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he’s black in the face, but he never misses a dinner. The Semitic looking young man opposite, who seems to have been committing you to memory piecemeal, will tell you that he was never so bored in all his life as he has been here. Yet he stays. They all stay!”

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