"He struck me as a fine specimen of a young Cornishman."
"Have you seen him since that night at the Vicarage?"
"Yes, two or three times; we have become rather friendly."
"He said all sorts of things about me, I expect?" and she looked at me questioningly.
"About you! Why should he?"
"Don't try to deceive me, Mr. Erskine. You cannot succeed in doing it, although you are a lawyer. I can see that he talked to you about me. What did he say?"
"What could he say?" I laughed, "except that you are very beautiful and very fascinating, and all that sort of thing."
I know it was very clumsy, and that had I been gifted with a ready wit I should have evaded her question with a greater appearance of ease.
"That will not do, Mr. Erskine, and it is not worthy of you. What did he tell you?" There was a look in her eyes, half of curiosity, half of anger, as she spoke. It appeared that she was interested in what Prideaux thought of her, yet angry that he should speak of her.
"What could he tell me?" I asked.