But she had learned as time went on that the room was full of distractions. Her eyes would wander from the page to the mantelpiece or the top of the desk, or the great chest of drawers, or to the wall beyond the wardrobe where some framed pictures hung, or to the door beside the head of the bed—where did it lead?— what hung behind the carved panels of the wardrobe? —what was beneath the lid of the old oak chest? In the desk drawers there must be letters addressed to him, whose envelopes—one would of course never think of looking beyond the envelopes—would reveal the provoking secret of his first name. The family name was Shenstone, everyone knew that, and he had a brother George, but he somehow preserved without effort his own exasperating anonymity.

Could one look closely at the pictures on the wall, without prying? Could one tell by his clothes, if any still remained in the wardrobe, what sort and size of man he was? There must be clues on the mantelpiece and on the desk—clues to the absorbing personality which had made this place its home, and which still pervaded the atmosphere like inaudible music. So much of him was here, under her hand, for the taking. Would it be an unpardonable sin to try to know him a little better?

She was sure that it would. And yet she could no longer resist the attempt. She had to know more about him. Most of all, she had to know his age, his name, and what he looked like. You couldn’t go on being a person’s guest for weeks and not know what his intimates called him, nor how to recognize him if he—well, if he suddenly walked in the door.

That idea began to bewitch her, with all its infinite possibilities—the idea of his unexpected return. She dwelt on it even when she wasn’t in the room, and it made her absent-minded at luncheon and deaf when she wandered alone in the garden, wondering what he would think of Aunt Effie’s innovations there.

A solitary child among people of no imagination, Sabrina had always invented and played her own games. Gradually this mysterious Mr. Shenstone was turning into the newest and most tantalizing game she had ever had, superseding all the others. It was a sort of treasure hunt, she told herself, and when you had got together enough pieces you would have assembled a complete person.