carts. Rose has tea with him every time she comes. It's part of the
ceremony.' She sighed wearily; the cat moved an ear; the nurse entered
as a signal that the visitors must depart. 'You'll come again, won't
you?' Christabel asked, holding Henrietta's hand and, as Rose said a
few words to the nurse, she whispered, 'Come alone'; and surprisingly,
from the hearthrug, there was a loud purring from the cat.

It was like release to be in the matted corridor again and it was in
silence that Rose led the way downstairs. Henrietta followed slowly,
looking at the pictures of hounds in full cry, top-hatted ladies
taking fences airily, red-coated gentlemen immersed in brooks, but at
the turn of the stairs she stood stock-still. She had the physical
sensation of her heart leaving its place and lodging in her throat.
Her stranger was standing in the hall; he was looking at Aunt Rose,
and she knew now what expression he was wearing in the wood; he was
looking at her half-angrily and as though he were suffering from
hunger. She could not see her aunt's face, but when Henrietta stood
beside her, Rose turned, saying, 'Henrietta, let me introduce Mr.
Sales.'

He said, 'How do you do?' and then she saw again that look of interest
with which she seemed to have been familiar for so long. 'I think I
have seen you before,' he said.

'It was you who picked up my orchid.'

'Of course.' He looked from her to Rose. 'I couldn't think who you
reminded me of, but now I know.'

'I don't think we are very much alike,' Henrietta said.