“I’ve got you there,” observed René. “It wasn’t fair though. I hadn’t the slightest intention of doing any such thing.”
“Why, then——?”
“Why do I want to see her? I don’t know. I want to. Isn’t that reason enough?”
They had returned to the house.
“You just ask her. Tell her I’m in Thrigsby for a few days and would like to see her. If she doesn’t wish it, don’t worry. I’ll wait ten minutes.”
“Very well,” said the Professor, not altogether giving up hope, “I’ll tell her, but the way you talk of it seems to me almost indecent.”
He let himself in at the front door, and in ten minutes was out again.
“Very well,” he said, “she will see you. . . . If you don’t mind, my wife has gone up to her room.”
“I wonder,” thought René, “what they would make of Ann. They wouldn’t mind my leaving her.”
He felt rather nervous as he reached the threshold of the study, but stiffened himself for the plunge. The door opened and he found himself shaking Linda warmly by the hand and asking after her health, and explaining how he came to be in Thrigsby. Linda was noticeably plumper, rounder, and more solid. He could see no charm in her and thought her unsuitably dressed, tactlessly, provincially. On the whole, he liked her. The handshake was firm, her eyes were frank.