“‘We did not know we were to have this pleasure,’ said the dark girl, breathing hard, and white as a sheet—very angry, I could see. ‘Mr. Lovett invited us over to tea this afternoon and to see his books.’
“‘His books!’ I rejoined. ‘What an imposter! His only books are woman’s looks!’
“‘Indeed,’ she snapped. ‘Nevertheless, I notice a good many volumes here,’ and she pointed to the shelves that line this room.
“‘Mr. Lovett, I gather, is not at home,’ said Mrs. Lawrence, speaking for the first time, and looking as stiff as a ramrod.
“‘Alas, no!’ I replied in my most effective theatrical manner.”
Lovett senior had jumped to his feet, and was now pacing the room, whilst Lovett junior, lolling in a long chair, with a cigarette between his fingers, related his experience with unquestionable unction.
“I went on to say that my name was Ruby Scarlett, that I had come out to ‘do’ India, and as I had known Mr. Lovett very, very intimately at home, my first visit was naturally to him; and I was frightfully disappointed to have lost two days of his society—but I was expecting him every moment.
“‘Did he know you were coming to-day?’ the dark one asked me point-blank, and her eyes were so piercing I could not bring out a lie, and so I said:
“‘No, I am a pleasant surprise! Now,’ I added, fumbling for the tea-pot, ‘let me give you some tea. Mr. Lovett is my cousin, I want to do the honours of his house nicely.’
“But they would not stay—not a little bit of it; nothing would induce them to remain, and they were so stiff and fierce they riled me, and I said: