Lorry Spear was the first to break the silence which had followed on young Weston's entrance. "I see that our new cousin has done us the doubtful service of preventing that rotten old car from being stolen. At least we might have collected the insurance on her… . Glad to see you all the same, Weston; don't bear you the least grudge." He held out his hand to the increasingly bewildered Vance.

"How absurd, Lorry … as if anybody had really thought … " Mrs. Spear broke in, the cloud lifting from her brow as she saw that her son was helping to carry the thing off (he didn't always; but when he did he was masterly).

"And all this time, my dear Vance," Mrs. Spear continued turning her beautiful eyes on her guest, "you must be wondering what we're all talking about, and why lunch is so late. But it's providential, as Halo says; for we shouldn't have had the pleasure of having you with us if that stupid old motor hadn't broken down. Now come into the dining room, my dear boy, this way. I'm going to put you next to Mr. Frenside, our great critic, whom you know by reputation—of course you read The Hour? George, this is Halo's friend, the young novelist … no, poet … poet, isn't it, Vance? You happy being!" Mrs. Spear laid her urgent hand on his shoulder and drew him toward the luncheon table.

Chapter 6

It was so still in the dim book-lined room that had the late Miss Lorburn reappeared upon the scene she might have mistaken for a kindred ghost the young man in possession of her library.

Vance, for the last few days, had been going over the books at the Willows, wiping them with a soft towel and carefully putting one after another back in its proper place. Halo Spear, in one of her spasmodic bursts of energy, had swooped down from Eaglewood the first morning to show him how to do it; for in the reverent and orderly treatment of books (handling them, Mrs. Weston might have put it, as gingerly as if they were "the best china"!) Vance was totally untaught. Miss Spear, with those swift and confident hands of hers, had given him one of her hurried demonstrations, accompanied by a running commentary of explanation. "Don't shake the books as if they were carpets, Vance; they're not. At least they're only magic carpets, some of them, to carry one to the other side of the moon. But they won't stand banging and beating. You see, books have souls, like people: that is, like a few people… . No, I wouldn't ask the Tracys to help; they don't know much about books. You and I will manage it by ourselves. Look: wipe the edges gently, like this, and then flutter the pages ever so lightly—as if you were a bee trying to shake open a flower—just to get the dust out… . Ah, but how lovely this is! Listen: