"How do you do, Mr. Haskett?" she said, and shook hands with him a
shade less cordially.

The three men stood awkwardly before her, till Varick, always the
most self-possessed, dashed into an explanatory phrase.

"We--I had to see Waythorn a moment on business," he stammered,
brick-red from chin to nape.

Haskett stepped forward with his air of mild obstinacy. "I am sorry
to intrude; but you appointed five o'clock--" he directed his
resigned glance to the time-piece on the mantel.

She swept aside their embarrassment with a charming gesture of
hospitality.

"I'm so sorry--I'm always late; but the afternoon was so lovely."
She stood drawing her gloves off, propitiatory and graceful,
diffusing about her a sense of ease and familiarity in which the
situation lost its grotesqueness. "But before talking business," she
added brightly, "I'm sure every one wants a cup of tea."

She dropped into her low chair by the tea-table, and the two
visitors, as if drawn by her smile, advanced to receive the cups she
held out.

She glanced about for Waythorn, and he took the third cup with a
laugh.