The visitor was standing with his back to the room, looking out of the window, but when he heard the door open he turned, and stared with hard, challenging eyes at his hostess.

She shut the door, but remained by it, meeting that fierce scrutiny resolutely. For a minute neither spoke, but each scanned the other, the lady perceiving a powerfully-built man, harsh-featured and swarthy, whose close-cropped hair, sporting neckcloth, and gleaming top-boots proclaimed the Corinthian; the gentleman gazing at an uncommonly pretty woman. Miss Tresilian was on the shady side of thirty, but although she had lately taken to wearing a cap over her soft brown curls, and bore herself with the assurance of her years, she retained the face and figure of a much younger woman.

It was she who broke the silence, saying, as she moved forward: ‘You wished, I think, to see me, sir. May I know why?’

He bowed stiffly. ‘I am obliged to you for receiving me, ma’am. As to my wishes—! I thought it best to come here in person, that there should be no misunderstanding between us.’

‘Pray be seated, sir!’ said Miss Tresilian, disposing herself gracefully in a winged armchair.

He did not avail himself of this invitation, but said abruptly: ‘I imagine you must know what my errand is. If you are indeed your niece’s guardian—but you will permit me to say that I find it incredible that you should be! She has a father, and you are by far too young to be her guardian!’

‘Certainly she has a father,’ replied Miss Tresilian coldly. ‘When he married again, however, it was agreed that his daughter should remain in my charge. Let me remind you that I am no longer a young woman, sir!’

At this point, the conversation, which had been conducted with the appearance at least of formality, underwent a change. ‘I know to a day how old you are, so don’t talk nonsense to me!’ said his lordship impatiently. ‘A more ramshackle arrangement—! Is your sister with you?’