“Why?” he said. “What stops you?”
“I’ve so much to do.”
He smiled slowly and satirically.
“Won’t it keep?” he said.
“No, really. I can’t come on Thursday—thank you so much. Good-night!” She gave him her hand and turned quickly into the shop, closing the door. He remained standing in the porch, staring at the closed door. Then, lifting his lip, he turned away.
“Well,” said Miss Pinnegar decidedly, as Alvina re-entered. “You can say what you like—but I think he’s very pleasant, very pleasant.”
“Extremely intelligent,” said James Houghton, shifting in his chair.
“I was awfully bored,” said Alvina.
They both looked at her, irritated.
After this she really did what she could to avoid him. When she saw him sauntering down the street in all his leisure, a sort of anger possessed her. On Sunday, she slipped down from the choir into the Chapel, and out through the main entrance, whilst he awaited her at the small exit. And by good luck, when he called one evening in the week, she was out. She returned down the yard. And there, through the uncurtained window, she saw him sitting awaiting her. Without a thought, she turned on her heel and fled away. She did not come in till he had gone.