“Are you so sure?” she whispered.
She saw the veins stand out upon his temples, watched the passion which kept him at first tongue-tied.
“Sure!” he muttered. “Who can be sure when you look like that!”
He held out his arms. With a swift little backward movement she flitted away and leaned against the table.
“What a brother-in-law you would make!” she laughed. “So steady, so respectable, alas! so serious! Dear Mr. Tavernake, I wish you joy. As a matter of fact, you and Beatrice are very well suited for one another.”
The telephone bell rang. She moved over and held the receiver to her ear. Her face changed. After the first few words to which she listened, it grew dark with anger.
“You mean to say that Professor Franklin has not been in since lunch-time?” she exclaimed. “I left word particularly that I should require him to-night. Is Major Post there, then? No? Mr. Crease—no? Nor Mr. Faulkes? Not one of them! Very well, ring me up directly the professor comes in, or any of them.”
She replaced the receiver with a gesture of annoyance. Tavernake was astonished at the alteration in her expression. The smile had gone, and with its passing away lines had come under her eyes and about her mouth. Without a word to him she strode away into her bedroom. Tavernake was just wondering whether he should retire, when she came back.
“Listen, Mr. Tavernake,” she said, “how far away are your rooms?”
“Down at Chelsea,” he answered, “about two miles and a half.”