"Well, well, there are many virtues in a bad memory. I suppose you forget injuries with the same Christian alacrity."
He laughed, and said,—
"Oh, no! I have not the virtues of bad memory: do not invest me with them. If I easily forget faces, I never forget injuries."
She winced again, and this time felt a vague terror at the diabolical calmness and ease with which he could envelope a terrible threat in the slight laugh of affected modesty. Confusion, even bitterness, would have been more encouraging to her. She felt that she was in the presence of an enemy, and of one as self-possessed as herself.
"Have you been long in England?"
This was to get off the perilous ground on which they stood.
"A few months only."
"And do you intend remaining?"
"Yes; I fancy so. I have one or two affairs which will keep me here an indefinite time."
"I suppose it would be proper to assume that one of those is an affaire de cœur?"