'I see why you came here now,' said Connie coolly. 'You came to make love to Trix Trevalla. Well, you can't, that's all.'
'That's for Mrs. Trevalla to say, not for you.'
'I don't expect Mrs. Trevalla'll show up at all,' remarked Connie, leaning against the table again.
'That's the little plan, is it?' He gave a jerk of his head. 'By Jove, I see! That hussy of a Ryle girl's in it!'
'I don't know who's in it; you seem rather out of it,' smiled Connie.
'I am, am I? We'll see. So Mrs. Trevalla won't show, won't she? That's hardly final, is it? She's on the premises, I rather fancy.'
'Going to force your way into her bedroom? Oh, Beaufort!'
'You'd be mightily shocked, wouldn't you?' He moved towards the door; his purpose was only half-formed, but he wished her to think it was absolute.
'I don't mind; but I'm sure papa and mamma would. I don't think they'd like you for a son-in-law after that.'
'Then we should all be pleased.'