"I don't think so. I write him such charming letters. It is all simmering down beautifully."
Marsham moved restlessly to and fro, first putting down a lamp, then fidgeting with an evening paper. Alicia never failed to stir in him the instinct of sex, in its combative and critical form; and hostile as he believed he was to her, her advent had certainly shaken him out of his depression.
She meanwhile watched him with her teasing eyes, apparently enjoying his disapproval.
"I know exactly what you are thinking," she said, presently.
"I doubt it."
"Heartless coquette!" she said, mimicking his voice. "Never mind--her turn will come presently!"
"You don't allow my thoughts much originality."
"Why should I? Confess!--you did think that?"
Her small white teeth flashed in the smile she gave him. There was an exuberance of life and spirits about her that was rather disarming. But he did not mean to be disarmed.
"I did not think anything of the kind," he said, returning to the fire and looking down upon her; "simply because I know you too well."