“Well, what do you want?” giving the door the least bit of an impatient jerk as if he were about to close it. The visitor must speak quickly.
There was perfect courtesy in the voice that replied:
“Mr. Massey? Sherwood’s my name. I’d like to have a few words with you.”
There was a grave assurance about the young man’s tone that irritated Eugene. Then he reflected that the man might have some news concerning Joyce and it would be as well to hear him through.
“Well, if you don’t take too long,” he said curtly, stepping out to the porch and drawing the door to after him. “We were just about to retire. I suppose you’re aware it’s rather late for callers.”
The young man lifted his hat with a grave smile that showed a row of irritatingly beautiful teeth, and gave him somehow the appearance of great advantage, but instead of telling his errand he put his hand out and pushed open the door saying pleasantly, and almost with an air of authority:
“We’ll just go inside if you don’t mind,” and was in before Eugene could resent his action. This was most extraordinary behaviour and Eugene half ready to eject him for his presumption, was yet somehow compelled to follow him.
It was quite evident as they entered that the visitor had intended to come inside for a purpose, for he did not hide the fact that he was taking in the whole sitting room with a quick keen glance, and even the hall and stairs and the living room beyond. He bowed deferentially to Nannette as she slid back into the room, curiosity in every line of her face.
Seen in the light of the room his face was extremely handsome, with an easy carelessness upon it that showed he made no merit of his comeliness, and cared little for impressions. Yet when he smiled even an enemy must needs listen:
“I came to see whether Joyce Radway has come home yet?”