"Have you come to tell me that?" he asked rudely.
"That—and other things," she returned unruffled.
"I don't want to hear them," he retorted.
"They concern you," she said—"rather closely."
"I don't want to hear them," he repeated.
"It is scarcely pleasant to be such an obviously unwelcome visitor," she said evenly. "But I am afraid you must listen."
"I am not in the humor to talk to you," he declared roughly. "I don't want to talk to any one. I want to be left alone. Isn't it enough to be pestered by the police and the papers, and all the damnable business for the inquest? Don't you see that my house is in mourning? Can't you let me be—even for a few days?"
"If I had let you be," she replied easily, "Inspector Fay would probably be here in my place—with much less pleasant intentions."
His glance sharpened.