"You!" he cried. "Come in, come in, and have coffee with me! Excuse my looks, I have just stopped work, I'll be ready in five minutes. …"
"Don't bother, I can't stay. I have to fetch Basil," said Teresa.
"But he has a sitter. Mrs. Perry hasn't gone yet."
"How do you know?" asked Teresa, smiling. "Do you watch for her?"
"Not I, but I can't help knowing when she goes by. There's a swish, swish that you can't mistake, and a blast of perfume—whew! Araby the blest couldn't touch it."
"That's the reason you leave your door open, I suppose," suggested Teresa, looking bored.
Erhart was busy setting out cups, plates, a plum-cake, and two silver mugs containing milk and sugar on a small table. He put the coffee-pot on the table and disappeared behind the screen.
"Do sit down," he begged eagerly. "This is awfully nice. When Mrs. P. goes we'll get Basil in. You know it's ages since you've been here. I want to show you my new group."
"Well," said Teresa indifferently.
She sat down and poured out the coffee, listening in spite of herself for the rustle of perfumed skirts. Erhart's pleasure in seeing her evoked no response. But she was not ungra-
