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"A lady to see you, sir," said Farris.
Desboro, lying on the sofa, glanced up over his book.
"A _lady_?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, who is she, Farris?"
"She refused her name, Mr. James."
Desboro swung his legs to the carpet and sat up.
"What kind of lady is she?" he asked; "a perfect one, or the real
thing?"
"I don't know, sir. It's hard to tell these days; one dresses like
t'other."
Desboro laid aside his book and arose leisurely.
"Where is she?"
"In the reception room, sir."
"Did you ever before see her?"
"I don't know, Mr. James--what with her veil and furs----"
"How did she come?"
"In one of Ransom's hacks from the station. There's a trunk outside,
too."
"What the devil----"
"Yes, sir. That's what made me go to the door. Nobody rang. I heard the
stompin' and the noise; and I went out, and she just kind of walked in.
Yes, sir."
"Is the hack out there yet?"
"No, sir. Ransom's man he left the trunk and drove off. I heard her tell
him he could go."
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