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His
eyes had dropped their veil of pleasantry, and she was aware, with a
troubled mind, that he was holding back something as a last resource if
she continued to prove intractable. Again and again she had this feeling
when she was with him--an uneasy intuition that his good humour was not
entirely unassumed, that he was concealing a dangerous weapon beneath
his offensive familiarity.
"After all I may be going to surprise you," he said lightly enough, yet
with this disturbing implication of some meaning that she could not
discern. "What if I tell you that I've no intention of making love to
you?"
"You mean there is something else you want to see me about?" She
breathed a sigh of relief, and her light steps fell gradually into the
measure of his. Her conscience pricked her unpleasantly when she
remembered that there had been a time when she would have spoken less
curtly. Well, what of that? It was characteristic of her energetic mind
that past mistakes were dismissed as soon as they were discovered.


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