To her annoyance, it was not until the third afternoon that the lawyer arrived. From her window she discovered him sauntering elegantly toward her, displaying to the street a brilliant tan vest, a pair of lavender trousers, and a smooth gray cutaway. A villain masked has thrice the terror of a villain seen, and to the despairing woman this outward semblance of the negligent dandy magnified immeasurably the lurking venom of the shyster beneath.
She went hurriedly down the stairs, rehearsing the dozen and one evasions she had prepared in making up the account he had come to demand.
"He cannot prove I am lying," she thought defiantly. "Let him make a scene if he wants to. As for the furniture and the expense of fitting up the house, that belongs to Fargus. On that point I won't yield." Then, as his step sounded, she opened the door and said pleasantly, "Well, you've come at last."
"Ah, Mrs. Fargus, I am unlucky! You are going out?" he said, starting back with a frown and speaking punctiliously. "But I may come in, for a moment? Just for a moment, then."
"Fargus is not in," she said, sneering at his sleek hypocrisy, "and no one is around."
"Excuse me, every one is around!" he said savagely, pushing past her. "Neighbors have eyes as well as ears. Oblige me by not coming to the door until I ring!"
"A pleasant introduction."
He shrugged his shoulders and made a quick survey. Returning to the parlor he took his seat by the window, to command a view of the street.
"Sit there," he said, placing a chair. "Now no one can steal in on us."
He stretched out his legs, quizzing her with a smile, in which he took no pains to conceal his vanity.