And he smiled his charming, arrogant smile, for he knew so well that he was always wanted.
“Mrs. Page meant to be home by five,” said Geraldine, with no smile at all. “Something must have delayed her.”
“Then you’ll give me a cup of tea, won’t you? I’m Randall, you know.”
She said yes, none too cordially, and rang the bell for fresh tea. He sat down opposite her, slouching in his chair, his handsome head thrown back, his dark eyes watching her.
“I’m Mrs. Page’s secretary,” she explained with cold formality.
“Lucky, lucky Mrs. Page!” said he.
A faint color rose in her cheeks. She resented his attitude, his easy and careless manner, his appraising glance, and he read the resentment in her face.
“Prudish!” he thought.
This did not annoy him. He liked this tall, dark, unsmiling girl just as she was, a charming novelty; but he would have to change his tactics.
“You were reading, weren’t you?” he said respectfully. “I hope I didn’t interrupt you.”