But she stood up and pushed her chair aside. "And now," she said gaily, in a new voice, a light and humorous one, "perhaps you'll tell me who you are and how you got here."

The question seemed to come to him from so far off that he stared at her perplexedly before answering. "I—oh, I'm just the Tracys' cousin. I'm staying at their house. They're somewhere round dusting the other rooms."

Her look became more friendly. "Oh, you're the cousin from the West, who's been ill and has come to Paul's Landing for a change? Mrs. Tracy told me about you—only I can't remember your name."

"Vance Weston."

"Mine's Héloïse Spear. They call me Halo. The name and the nickname are both ridiculous." She held out her hand. "And you've come to call on poor old Cousin Elinor? It's an attention she doesn't often receive from her own family." She glanced about the room. "I haven't been here in an age—I don't know what made me come today. At least I didn't—" she broke off with one of her fugitive smiles, letting her eyes rest on his and then turning away from him to inspect the books. "Some day," she said, as if to herself, "I must have the courage to take these down and give them a good cleaning."

Vance stood up also, beginning to speak eagerly. "Could I come and help you when you do—I mean with the books? I'd—I'd like it first-rate."

She turned back to him, her eyes brimming with banter and coquetry. "On account of the books?"

But he was too deep in his own emotion to heed the challenge. He answered simply: "I don't often get a chance at this kind." His eyes followed hers about the crowded shelves. "I've never before been in a house with a library—a real library like this."

She gave a little shrug. "Oh, it's a funny library, antiquated, like the house. But Cousin Elinor does seem to have cared for good poetry. When other ladies were reading 'Friendship's Garland' she chose Coleridge."

His gaze returned perplexed to her face. "Why do you call it a funny library?"

"Well, it's not exactly up-to-date. I suppose it's a fairly good specimen of what used to be called a 'gentleman's library' in my great-grandfather's time. With additions, naturally, from each generation. Cousin Elinor must have bought a good many books herself." She looked about her critically. "After all," she concluded with a smile, "the Willows is getting to have an atmosphere."

Vance listened, still perplexed. Her allusions escaped him—her smile was unintelligible—but he gathered that she attached no very great importance to the house, or to the books, and he dimly resented this air of taking for granted what to him was the revelation of an unknown world.