A faint aromatic odor hung upon the air, possibly due to a pile of
balsam logs in a corner near the chimney. Over all was the
unmistakable evidence of age, and of a nature at once barbaric,
eccentric, and artistic. Who had conceived and executed this
extraordinary apartment? And what were the people like who called the
place their home? Paul stood aghast and wondered as he inwardly
propounded these questions.

The girl led the way to the fire, and, seating herself upon one of
the sofas described, invited Paul to the opposite place. His
bewilderment was intense, and with a lingering gaze at the oddities
surrounding him, he accepted the invitation. Not another soul had
been seen since he entered. Did the girl live alone? It seemed
incredible; and yet where were her people?

Dorothy pulled off her gloves and warmed her fingers before the
cheerful blaze, and then stood eying with evident satisfaction the
costly gems with which they were loaded. The light seemed to shine
directly through her delicate palms, and to fall upon her face and
hair and quaint old-fashioned costume with singular effect. There was
something so bizarre and yet so spirituelle in her appearance that
Henley could not help observing in what perfect harmony she seemed
with her environment. It was some minutes before either of them
spoke--Paul loth to express his surprise for fear of betraying a lack
of knowledge he might possibly be expected to possess, while Dorothy,
in an apparent fit of abstraction, had evidently forgotten her guest
and all else, save the cheerful fire before her. Presently she
withdrew her eyes from their fixed stare at the flames, and, looking
at Paul, said: "You must be hungry."