“So much the better,” he replied promptly. “I’d much rather have tea alone with you.”
“That’s not very polite to the others”—smiling a little. “I thought the Staple people were old friends of yours?”
“So they are. That’s exactly it. I feel the mood of the explorer on me this afternoon.”
“You’re one of the people with a penchant for new acquaintances, then?” she said indifferently, leading the way into the hall, where, in place of the great log fire of chillier days, a hank of growing tulips made a glory of gold and orange and red in the wide hearth.
“No, I’m not,” he returned bluntly. “But I’ve every intention of making your acquaintance right now.”
Jean rang the bell and ordered tea.
“I think perhaps I might be consulted in the matter,” she returned lightly when Baines had left the room. “The settling of questions of that kind is usually considered a woman’s prerogative. Supposing”—smiling—“I don’t ask you to tea, after all?”
There was a smouldering fire in the glance he bestowed upon her vivid face.
“It wouldn’t make a bit of difference—in the long run,” he replied deliberately. “If a man makes up his mind he can usually get his own way—over most things.”
“You can’t force friendship,” she said quickly. It was as though she were defying something that threatened.