"Wait in the dining-room," said Grantley.
Blake went out without turning or seeming to hear. After a moment or two Anna's step came down the stairs.
"Mamma'll be down directly, Mr. Imason," she called as she reached the door. Then her eyes took in the room. "Mr.—Mr. Blake?" she asked, with a sudden quick rush of colour in her cheeks.
"I think you'll find him in the dining-room," said Grantley gravely.
She understood—and she did not lack courage. She had enough for two—for herself and for Blake. She met Grantley's look fair and square, drawing up her trim stylish figure to a stiff rigidity, and setting her lips in a resolute line. Grantley admired her attitude and her open defiance of him. He smiled at her in a confidential mockery.
"Thanks, Mr. Imason, I'll look for him. You'll be all right till mamma comes?"
"Oh yes, I shall be all right, thanks, Anna."
He smiled still. Anna gave him another look of defiance.
"I intend to go my own way; I know what I'm about. I don't care a pin what you think." The glance seemed to Grantley as eloquent as Lord Burghley's nod. And no more than Lord Burghley did she spoil its effect by words. She gave it to Grantley full and square, then turned on her heel and swung jauntily out of the room.
Grantley's smile vanished. He screwed up his lips as if he had tasted something rather sour.