“Very personal,” replied McVay with feeling. “I’ll just explain how it was. Last night, as soon as I realised how bad the storm was, I made up my mind that I had better attempt to enter the house. I succeeded after some trouble, came to this room, turned on the light—a spooky thing; an empty house, picked up a book, had quite forgotten my position, the world, everything, when a voice at my elbow said: ‘Fond of reading?’ I was never more surprised in my life. I felt distinctly caught,—an interloper. And to make matters worse, I saw that Holland did not at once recognise me. I made every effort to leave, but he would not hear of such a thing. He made it perfectly plain in fact that it was his wish to keep me. I yielded. That, I think, Holland, is a pretty accurate account of the night’s proceeding, isn’t it?”
Geoffrey did not answer. His soul rebelled at the farce, and at McVay’s irrepressible enjoyment of his own abilities. As Holland met the twinkling joy of those small blue eyes, he wondered if he would not be doing mankind a favour by putting a bullet into McVay before the dawn of another day. Unconscious of this possibility, McVay continued to his sister:
“Well, it has all been a painful experience for you, my dear ... a long and dangerous adventure for a woman, but you were at least warmly clad. A handsome coat, is it not, Holland?”
“Very,” said Geoffrey chillingly.
“Now that coat,” McVay went on unchilled, “was a real bargain. I may say I paid nothing for it,—little more than the trouble of taking it home. Although from another point of view, its price was pretty high....”
“Really, Billy, I don’t think Mr. Holland is interested in our bargains.”
“In some, he is.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Geoffrey, eyeing McVay with a warning glance, “I think I know of just about a dozen people who will want a circumstantial account of all of them.”
“Now there, Holland, there is one of your philistine words,—circumstantial! It takes all poetry, all imagination out of a subject. Do you know, the only connotation—(are you familiar with that word?)—the only suggestion it has for me is a jury?”
He scored distinctly. Geoffrey had nothing to say in reply.