When I left Lady Crawford she again took her chair near the candle, put on her great bone-rimmed spectacles, and was soon lost to the world in the pages of "Sir Philip de Comynges." The dear old lady was near-sighted and was slightly deaf.

Dorothy's bedroom, like Lady Crawford's apartments, was in deep shadow.

In it there was no candle.
My two fair friends were seated in one of the west windows watching the sunset.

They rose, and each gave me her hand and welcomed me with the rare smiles I had learned to expect from them.

I drew a chair near to the window and we talked and laughed together merrily for a few minutes.