"I want a word with you," he said.
Ailly Blake flashed a swift glance round the room, and Courthorne noticed with a little smile that it was one man in particular her gaze rested on; but neither Potter nor any of the others seemed to be observing them at that moment.
"Then open the second door down the corridor in about twenty minutes," she said.
She moved away and left him to join the others about the stove, until the time she mentioned had elapsed, when he sauntered out of the room and opened the door she had indicated. It led into a little room apparently used as a household store. Here Ailly Blake was standing, while a litter of forks, spoons, and nickeled knives showed what her occupation had been. Courthorne sat down on a table and looked at her with a little smile, though she stood intent, and quivering a little.
"Well," she said, almost harshly, "what is it you want?"
Courthorne laughed. "Need you ask? Is it astonishing that I was anxious to see you? I don't think it's necessary to point out that you are quite as good to look at as ever."
The girl's lips trembled a little, and it was evident that she put a constraint upon herself.
"You haven't changed either," she said bitterly. "You have still the smooth tongue and the laugh in your eyes that should warn folks against it. I listened to it once, and it brought me black shame and sorrow."
"I almost fancy, Ailly, that if I wanted you to very much you would listen again."
The girl shrank from him a little and then straightened herself suddenly and faced him with a flash in her eyes.