At that moment the door-handle turned.
"Rosemary, can I come in?" It was Philip [´fIlIp], her husband.
He came in. "Oh, I'm so sorry," he said, as if apologizing, and stopped and stared.
"It's quite all right," said Rosemary, smiling. "This is my friend, Miss -"
"Smith, madam," said the figure in the chair.
"Smith," said Rosemary. "We are going to have a little talk."
Philip smiled his charming smile. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I wanted you to come into the library for a moment. Will Miss Smith excuse us?"
The big eyes were raised to him, but Rosemary answered for her: "Of course she will," and they went out of the room together.
"I say," said Philip, when they were alone. "Explain, who is she? What does it all mean?"
Rosemary, laughing, leaned against the door and said:
"I picked her up in the street. Really. She asked me for the price of a cup of tea and I brought her home with me."
"Congratulations!" Philip sounded as though he were joking. "But what on earth are you going to do with her?"
"Be nice to her," said Rosemary quickly, "look after her. I don't know how. We haven't talked yet. Just show her - treat her - make her feel -"
"But," said Philip slowly, and he cut the end of cigar, "she's so extremely pretty. She can't be more than twenty."
"Pretty?" Rosemary was so surprised that she blushed. "Do you think so? I - I hadn't thought about it."
"Good Lord!" Philip took a match. "She's absolutely lovely. Look again, my child. But let me know if Miss Smith is going to dine with us!"
"You absurd creature!" said Rosemary, and she went out of the library, but not back to her bedroom. She went to her writing-room and sat down at her desk. Pretty! Absolutely lovely! Her heart beat like a heavy bell. She opened a drawer, took out five pound notes, looked at them, put two back, and holding the three in her hand, went back to her bedroom.