“I met you accidentally,” he reminded her. “Our ways happened to lie together.”
“And our destinations also, it seems,” she added, smiling.
“You asked me in to tea,” he protested.
“In self-defence I had to,” she answered. “It is a delightful day for walking, but a great deal too cold to be standing on the pavement.”
“Of course,” he said, reaching out his hand tentatively for his hat, “I could go away even now. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned.”
“Then you had better ring the bell,” she declared, laughing. “The walk has given me an appetite, and I do not feel like waiting till five o’clock. I wonder why on earth the curtains are drawn. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. Would you mind drawing them back?”
Ennison sprang up, but he never reached the curtains. They were suddenly thrown aside, and a man stepped out from his hiding-place. A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. Anna sprang to her feet with a startled cry.
“You!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!”
The man stepped into the middle of the room. The last few months had not dealt kindly with Mr. Montague Hill. He was still flashily dressed, with much obvious jewellery and the shiniest of patent boots, but his general bearing and appearance had altered for the worse. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights. His voice when he spoke was almost fiercely assertive, but there was an undernote of nervousness.
“Why not?” he exclaimed. “I have the right to be here. I hid because there was no other way of seeing you. I did not reckon upon—him.”