“I did,” she admitted.
“Well,” said Carpentaria, “he is at this moment in the sitting-room.”
Juliette’s dainty nostrils began to dilate.
“Carlos,” she said disdainfully, “do you know what you are saying? To me! Mr. Ilam is not here. I have already asked you to come in!”
“Yes,” said Carpentaria, “but you don’t make way for me. You keep well in the doorway, Juliette!”
She moved aside with a gesture of the finest feminine scorn.
“Is there space for you to enter?” she said, bitterly sarcastic.
Carpentaria stepped forward one pace. His foot was on the door-mat.
“Stop a moment, Carlos,” she said warningly, lifting her arm. “I repeat that Mr. Ilam is not here. I cannot imagine what put the idea into your head. But whatever put it in, let me advise you to put it out again at once. Under the circumstances, if you come into this room, now that I have distinctly told you that Mr. Ilam is not here, it will be equivalent to calling me a liar. I could not suffer that, even from you, Carlos. I should leave you. We should quarrel for ever. Think what you are doing.”
Tears stood in her eyes.