It was Zita who had entered noiselessly and now stood well within the room.
How long had she been there? How much had she overheard? Both Eva and Quentin exchanged worried glances.
Locke rose and went over to Zita, who spoke to him in a whispered undertone.
The matter was so trivial that it hardly warranted her intrusion. Locke was puzzled. But he was a man and, therefore, did not understand. For, as Zita continued, there was a world of longing in her eyes. She even went so far as to finger the lapel of his coat.
Eva understood only too well, and her face crimsoned. She bit her lips, and in vexation at Zita her finger-nails pressed into her palms. Paul's entrance at this moment was a distinct relief, much as she despised the man.
"What's all the fuss about?" he inquired.
Paul had a gaiety of manner that he could slip on like a coat, and it was this quality that made him dangerous. He was popular and attractive.
Paul took Eva's hand and managed to hold it just the fraction of a second longer than was necessary to convey friendship. Then Eva withdrew her hand, but not before Locke saw it and scowled.
It was not long before the elder Balcom also arrived.
"Good afternoon, my children," he greeted, jovially. "I'm just a bit ahead of time, I imagine. But why you children don't leave dry matters of business to us older heads I'm blessed if I know."