She went to the door with him, annoyed also at the interruption.
"I'm coming tomorrow," he said, and he held out his hand with a little defiance.
She did not resent the assumption of right, still introspectively puzzled at the new moods into which she had fallen. And, still pensive, she said:
"Come."
Below, in the anteroom, he sent a look of antagonism and scorn at a young man, a little extravagantly dressed, who carried a portfolio under his arm with a sense, too, of irritation and pride.
CHAPTER XIII
When he had gone into the brisk air of the street, his mental vision returned with the crispness of the night. He was astonished at what he had said and done.
"But I am not in love—not in the least," he repeated. "Then what was it?"
He was quite perplexed at perceiving the astonishing difference her presence and her absence made in his attitude. He repeated to himself quite seriously with a little wonder that, if he were in danger of falling in love, he would be a prey to that disturbing emotion now, absent as well as present.
"I am perfectly calm," he said, flourishing his cane. "Not in the least excited. It's very queer."