When he came in it was slowly, and with his head bent, as though he still debated within himself. Then:
“I think I have a right to ask what Anthony Cardew's granddaughter is doing in my house.”
“Your wife's niece has come to call on her, Mr. Doyle.”
“Are you quite sure that is all?”
“I assure you that is all,” Lily said haughtily. “It had not occurred to me that you would be here.”
“I dare say. Still, strangely enough, I do spend a certain amount of time in my home.”
Lily picked up her muff.
“If you have forbidden her to come down, I shall go.”
“Wait,” he said slowly. “I haven't forbidden her to see you. I asked her to wait. I wanted a few moments. You see, it is not often that I have a Cardew in my house, and I am a selfish man.”
She hated him. She loathed his cold eyes, his long, slim white hands. She hated him until he fascinated her.