“I think I may say that I know practically all that there is to tell.”
He leant forward suddenly, rested an arm on the table, and fixed me with eager eyes.
“Miss Harding, I want a friend! I want an ally. I came here to-day, hoping to find one in you. Will you be on my side?”
I drew back; but, before I had time to protest, he hurled another crisp, sharp question at my head:—
“Do you love your niece?”
The question appealed to me. I answered promptly, as it were mentally licking my lips:—
“I do! I may say I am much attached to Evelyn. She has faults (judicially), but she is a pleasant, well-meaning girl. She has been (unctuously) very kind to me.”
“She is kind to everyone,” he said shortly, “except myself! Of course she has faults! Plenty of them. You could not know her without seeing that.”
I glared, outraged. Oh, indeed! If my faults are so many and so obvious, why on earth does he—?
“You are very keen-sighted for a lover, Mr Maplestone,” I said coldly. “If I were Evelyn, I should prefer the idealism which is usual under the circumstances. But perhaps you do not pose as an ordinary lover.”