"I'll be with you in ten minutes."
"Right you are. Good afternoon, Miss—ah—Thursday...."
Alone with Marbridge, Joan began impulsively to protest her thanks, but on glancing up, fell silent, abashed by an expression that glowed in the man's eyes like a reflection of firelight.
She lowered demure lashes to cloak her confusion, a smile about her lips at once sophisticated and timid: a distractingly pretty woman fully conscious of her allure and of his attraction for her: a vision of provoking promise.
Marbridge drew a deep breath.
"If you persist in looking like that," he said in a voice that trembled between laughter and a sigh—"don't blame me if I forget myself and take you in my arms and kiss you. There are limits to my endurance...."
Joan looked up, smiling.
"Well—" she said with a little nervous laugh—"Well, what of it?"