“Did she? I am so glad. I really am. I went to your house with a good deal of misgiving, Mr. Paine. I feared that my coming might be considered an intrusion.”
“I told you that it would not.”
“I know. But, under the circumstances—Father's disagreement with—considering all the—the—Oh, what shall I call it?”
“The late unpleasantness,” I suggested.
Again came the twinkle in her eye. She nodded.
“Thank you,” she said. “That is a quotation, but it was clever of you to think of it. Yes, considering the late unpleasantness, I was afraid my visit might be misunderstood. I was fearful that your mother or—someone—might think I came there with an ulterior motive, something connected with that troublesome Lane dispute. Of course no one did think such a thing?”
She asked the question quickly and with intense seriousness. I remembered Lute's hint and my own secret suspicions, but I answered promptly.
“Of course not,” I said.
“You did not think that, did you?”
“No,” unblushingly.