“It’s me⁠—Anne Beddingfeld.”

“Oh, come in, gipsy girl.”

I entered. A good deal of scattered clothing lay about, and Mrs. Blair herself was draped in one of the loveliest kimonos I had ever seen. It was all orange and gold and black and made my mouth water to look at it.

“ Mrs. Blair,” I said abruptly, “I want to tell you the story of my life⁠—that is, if it isn’t too late, and you won’t be bored.”