behind me, and leaning forward, said softly:

"Is Miss Omar engaged to read to some invalid up at Sing Sing?
And for how long a term--I should say, engagement?"

I'd got through shivering by then. I was ready for him. I turned
and looked at him in that very polite, distant sort o' way Gray
uses in her act when the Charity superintendent speaks to her.
It's the only decent thing she does; chances are that that's how
Lord Gray's mother looks at her.

"You know my sister, Mr.--Mr.--" I asked humbly.

He looked at me, perplexed for just a second.

"Sister be hanged!" he said at last. "I know you, Nat, and I'm
glad to my finger-tips that you've got it in the neck, in spite
of all your smartness."

"You're altogether wrong, sir," I said very stately, but hurt a
bit, you know. "I've often been taken for my sister, but
gentlemen usually apologize when I explain to them. It's hard
enough to have a sister who--" I looked up at him tearfully,
with my chin a-wabble with sorrow.

He grinned.

"Liars should have good memories," he sneered. "Miss Omar said
she was an orphan, you remember, and had not a relative in the
world."