The next evening Mappin came to the house, and Geraldine carefully made some changes in her dress before she entered the drawing-room, where he was talking with Mrs. Denton. He rose with a challenging smile as she came in, and Geraldine was glad to feel that she was looking her best. It was humiliating to dress to please this man, but there was a struggle before her and she must use such weapons as she had.
"You're surprised to see me?" he said.
"Oh, no! I didn't doubt your boldness."
Mappin glanced at her sharply, for there was nothing ungracious in her tone. Her manner hinted at a change of mood; but he understood that women were variable.
"Then I have your permission to remain?"
"I'm not sure that you need it, and it would be inhospitable to refuse it," Geraldine replied, as if amused.
Mrs. Denton looked from one to the other in a puzzled way, but she said nothing, and Mappin began to talk, relating scraps of news picked up at the Landing. Geraldine showed some interest, and after a while Mrs. Denton, seeing them apparently on good terms, judiciously left them. Then the girl ceased to respond to her companion's remarks, and Mappin, never a brilliant conversationalist, found it hard to go on. He began to show impatience, and Geraldine enjoyed his embarrassment. At last he glanced toward the piano.
"I wish you would play or sing something," he begged.
Geraldine rose good-humoredly and opened the piano.
"I didn't know you cared for music."