“Why don’t you get rid of him, then? I wouldn’t have a man who would set traps on my land.”
He frowned, and his tone was distinctly impatient. He was evidently weary of the discussion.
“I cannot. He has a long lease. Good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Deville.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“You know my name!”
“Certainly. Don’t you know mine?”
“No.”
“Let me introduce myself, then. I am Miss Ffolliot—the pale-faced chit, you know!” I added, maliciously. “My father is the new vicar.”
I was standing up before him with my hands clasped behind my back, and almost felt the flash of his dark, fiery eyes as they swept over me. I could not look away from him.