“Upon my word, I think you would, Charlotte. I have often said it. But you are one in a thousand.”
“Have you had anything to eat since you came in?”
“They brought me some supper. It has just gone away.”
“I had better inquire whether there’s a room ready for you?” she remarked, moving towards the bell.
“It’s all done, Charlotte. I told them I had come to stay. Just sit down, and let me talk to you.”
“Shall you stay long?”
“I can’t tell until I hear from Verrall to-morrow. I may be leaving again to-morrow night, or I may be here for interminable weeks. The office is to be clear of Mr. Verrall just now, do you understand?”
Charlotte apparently did understand. She took her seat in a chair listlessly enough. Something in her manner would have told an accurate observer that she could very well have dispensed with the company of Rodolf Pain. He, however, saw nothing of that. He took his cigar-case from his pocket, selected a cigar, and then, by way of sport, held the case out to Charlotte.
“Will you take one?”
For answer, she dashed it out of his hand half way across the room. And she did it in anger, too.