“Miss Bultiwell,” Jacob said calmly, as he rose to his feet, “I understand that you desire information respecting the Cropstone Wood Estates. I am Chairman of the Company and entirely at your service.”
She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders, swung across the room, and threw herself into the client’s chair with a touch of that insolent grace which he had always so greatly admired.
“I had no idea whom I was coming to see,” she told him.
“Or you would not have come?”
“I most certainly should not.”
The light died from his eyes. He felt the chill of her cold, contemptuous tone.
“Can you not remember,” he suggested, “that you are here to see an official connected with the Cropstone Wood Estates Company and forget the other association?”
“I shall try,” she agreed. “If I had not made up my mind to do that, I should have walked straight out of your office directly I recognised you.”
“You will pardon my saying,” he ventured, “that I consider your attitude unnecessarily censorious.”