idity. I felt that each of the rooms was deliberately taking stock of me, and that from no one of them was I by any means sure of a favourable opinion.
Fortunately, this uncomfortable formality passed off, like the appalling embarrassment which characterizes the first half-hour of a children’s party, and before the month was up my rooms had decided that I was not an undesirable playmate; had formed, as it were, a circle around me, holding hands; and we were all on the best possible terms with each other and ourselves. But I think it was Galvin, rather than I, who caused “Sans Souci” to assume the reposeful appearance of an establishment long maintained.
Her methods of operation were those of the lowly but effectual mole; continuous and conscientious, that is to say, but invisible to the naked eye in all save results. From a distance I could hear her whirling through space, hot on the heels of some unapparent speck of dust,
