"Not flatter me with lies about being glad to see me," she burst out angrily, "when you would rather have seen the devil."
"I won't go so far as that," said I lightly. "I don't admire the devil, and I always did admire you, though, if you wish me to be candid, I would much rather have seen you at another time."
"Perhaps after you are married," she cried, with a vicious glance.
"I did not say I wished never to see you again," I returned.
"You used not to lie even by implication in the old days," she said, showing she understood me.
"Nor you to insult me without implication," I retorted. "But I wish you would sit down. It is just as easy to be an enemy sitting as standing."
She sat down, and I thought her expression was a little less wrathful.
"Now, then, just tell me plainly why you think it worth while to come here, why you are such an enemy, and what particular injury you think and wish to do me?"
"Much more than you seem to imagine," she exclaimed sharply, her eyes flashing again.
The answer pleased me, for it seemed to show that I was successfully concealing the alarm which her visit had caused. Certainly I must not let her have an inkling of the fact that she could really do any harm.