"What do you intend to do?" she demanded, once more searching my face.
I resented the way in which she anticipated my own questions. I could see, from the first, that she was going to be an extraordinarily adept and circuitous person to handle. I warned myself that I would have to be ready for every trick and turn.
"What do you suppose I'm going to do?" I equivocated, looking for some betraying word to put me on firmer ground. I could see that she was slowly regaining her self-possession.
"You have no right in this house," she had the brazenness to say to me.
"Have you?" I quickly retorted. She was silent for a second or two.
"No," she admitted, much as she would like to have claimed the contrary.
"Of course not! And I imagine you realize what your presence here implies, just as what your discovery here entails?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"And I think you have the intelligence to understand that I'm here for motives somewhat more disinterested than your own?"
"What are they?" she demanded, letting her combative eyes meet mine.