She looked to her right, to the end of the room that, because of the open door, I could not see. A cross voice said,
''What is it?''
I pushed the door further, and saw another painted window, more shelves, more books, and a-second great desk. This one was piled with papers, and had another shaded lamp. Behind it sat Mr Lilly, Maud''s old uncle; and to describe him as I saw him then, is to tell everything.
He wore a velvet coat, and a velvet cap, that had a stub of red wool jutting from it where a tassel might once have hung. In his hand there was a pen, that he held clear of the paper; and the hand itself was dark, as Maud''s was fair—for it was stained all over with India ink, like a regular man''s might be stained with tobacco. His hair, however, was white. His chin was shaved bare. His mouth was small and had no colour, but his tongue—that was hard and pointed—was almost black, from where he must have given a lick to his finger and thumb, when turning pages.
His eyes were damp and feeble. Before them he had a pair of glasses, shaded green. He saw me and said,
''Who the devil are you?''
Maud worked at the buttons at her wrist.
''This is my new maid, Uncle,'' she said quietly. ''Miss Smith.''
Behind Mr Lilly''s green glasses, I saw his eyes screw themselves up and grow damper.
''Miss Smith,'' he said, looking at me but talking to his niece. ''Is she a papist, like the last one?''