“I felt,” he said, to put an end to our awkward silence, “that you would grant me this private interview, Miriam.”
He emphasised the word “private,” and I once more half rose, for my position was most painful, and the hot anger and indignation in my breast more than I could bear.
“Sit still, Antony,” said Miss Carr quietly; “Mr Lister has nothing to say to me that you do not already know.”
“But you will grant me a private interview, Miriam,” said Lister appealingly.
“Mr Lister,” said Miss Carr, after pointing to a chair, which her visitor refused to take, remaining standing, as if resenting my presence, “you wrote and begged me to see you, to let you speak instead of writing. I have granted that which you wished.”
“Yes,” he said bitterly, “but I did not ask for an interview in presence of a third party, and that third person Mr Antony Grace.”
There was something so petty in his emphasis of the title of courtesy Mr, that I once more rose.
“Miss Carr,” I said, “I am sure it will be more pleasant for all. Let me beg of you to excuse me now,” and as I spoke I moved towards the door.
“I wish you to stay,” she said quietly; and as I resumed my seat and angrily took up a book, “Mr Lister, Antony Grace is my very dear friend and adviser. Will you kindly say what you wish in his presence?”
“In his presence?” exclaimed Lister, with the colour coming into his cheeks.