“Do you suppose I should feel warranted in forming any opinion upon your conduct?” she retorted.
“But you have formed one, and it isn’t favourable.”
The girl hesitated a moment, but she had the courage of her convictions, and she felt impelled to make some protest.
“That,” she said, looking him in the eyes, “is perfectly true.”
He looked more puzzled than guilty, and once more she chafed against the fact that she could give him no opportunity of defending himself.
“Well,” he said, “I’m sorry; but it brings us back to my first question.”
The situation was becoming painful as well as embarrassing, and Evelyn, perhaps unreasonably, grew more angry with the man.
“I’m afraid,” she said “you are either clever at dissembling or have no imagination.”
Vane held himself in hand with an effort, “I dare say you’re right on the latter point,” he informed her. “It’s a fact I’m sometimes thankful for. It leaves one more free to go straight ahead. Now, as I see the dried-fruit man coming in search of you, and you evidently don’t mean to answer me, I can’t urge the matter.”
He turned away and left her wondering why he had abandoned his usual persistency, unless it was that an uneasy conscience had driven him from the field. It did not occur to her that the man had, under strong provocation, merely yielded to the prompting of a somewhat hasty temper. In the meanwhile, he crossed the room in an absent-minded manner, and presently found himself near Jessie, who made room for him at her side.