"Yes—?"
"To come over to our side—"
"I thought so. That was why I went."
"Yes; I understood. But this morning, when you've had time to think it over—?"
"I have no choice in the matter, Mrs. Hallam." The green eyes darkened ominously. "You mean—I am to understand, then, that you're against us, that you prefer to side with swindlers and scoundrels, all because of a—"
She discovered him eying her with a smile of such inscrutable and sardonic intelligence, that the words died on her lips, and she crimsoned, treasonably to herself. For he saw it; and the belief he had conceived while attending to her tissue of fabrication, earlier that morning, was strengthened to the point of conviction that, if anything had been stolen by anybody, Mrs. Hallam and her son owned it as little as Calendar.
As for the woman, she felt she had steadily lost, rather than gained, ground; and the flash of anger that had colored her cheeks, lit twin beacons in her eyes, which she resolutely fought down until they faded to mere gleams of resentment and determination. But she forgot to control her lips; and they are the truest indices to a woman's character and temperament; and Kirkwood did not overlook the circumstance that their specious sweetness had vanished, leaving them straight, set and hard, quite the reverse of attractive.
"So," she said slowly, after a silent time, "you are not for Queensborough! The corollary of that admission, Mr. Kirkwood, is that you are for Sheerness."
"I believe," he replied wearily, "that there are no other stations on this line, after Newington."
"It follows, then, that—that I follow." And in answer to his perturbed glance, she added: "Oh, I'll grant that intuition is sometimes a poor guide. But if you meet George Calendar, so shall I. Nothing can prevent that. You can't hinder me."