He watched her eagerly, for eagerness could occasionally show on his face, as a sudden joy may recall a past youth to the face of a mature woman. She considered thoughtfully:
"To-morrow? At what time?"
"At one," he said; and she noticed again the curious gesture of his feminine fingers sliding caressingly over the back of his hand.
"One's all right. I'll be delighted to meet Mrs. Sassoon."
He raised his head with an ironical smile; but the smile fled as he noticed that her face was blankly serious.
"I don't like that!" he said abruptly.
"What?"
"You know very well I am not inviting you to meet my wife."
"What do you want with me, then, Mr. Sassoon?" she said calmly, looking directly at him with her cloudy blue eyes of a child.
He rose, nonplused, walked to the window and slowly back. What was she—straightforward or deep? Did she wish to come directly to a business understanding, or—or was she truly independent and seeking this method to terminate the acquaintance? An instinct warned him of the danger in an answer. He returned, and said, leaning on the mantelpiece: