"You're not interested?"
"Why do you say so?"
"Your tone. I suppose a man is tedious when he gets on his hobby. I noticed you were bored when we were talking chemistry at supper."
"I wasn't bored. I simply wasn't listening."
"You don't like chemistry?"
"I did. But my enthusiasm cooled as I got interested in other things."
Again the conversation languished. She suspected that his opinion of her was rapidly declining. But some instinct withheld her from making any effort whatever to rehabilitate herself. Finally he said: "Well, I guess I've disturbed you long enough. I'll go to my room and read."
"I'm going up myself after I've had a little talk with Nanny about the house."
As soon as he disappeared, she dismissed him from mind with a few pleasant and friendly thoughts—"he may not have any great amount of brains or force, but he certainly has good taste. He will be a distinct addition." When she ascended to her sitting room, perhaps an hour later, she halted on the threshold, coloring with anger. Dick was seated at her center table reading a newspaper; Gallatin was inspecting the books in one of her cases. Dick saw her and said: "Come in. Don't mind us."
Courtney, struggling against her anger at this climax to the impudent intrusion upon her privacy, remained upon the threshold.