“Good morning,” he said hesitatingly, “I—I was passing and thought I would call.”
“Passing here?” interposed Jill incredulously, “what a circuitous route you must have taken to accomplish that.”
“Not at all,” he answered, “you aren’t so very out of the way. Besides I wanted to come.”
“So I supposed,” she retorted disagreeably. “But you might have saved yourself the trouble; you were quite safe paying by cheque, you know.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Mean! Why haven’t you called for your receipt? I own to having been remiss in not sending it, but I had my reasons; and after all it was only three days since, and a cheque is always pretty safe.”
“You know that I haven’t called for that,” he said angrily. “If I thought you really believed me capable of such an act I would—”
“Well, what?” she asked derisively.
“I don’t know,” he answered lamely, “clear perhaps. I had forgotten even that a receipt was customary, and certainly never looked for one from you.”
“Nothing so business like, I suppose?” snapped Jill. “I should have sent one though if I had not intended returning the cheque instead. I have no right to that money; I turned you away at a moment’s notice, you did not leave of your own accord.”