“What do you suppose made her make that wild statement to Tamea, Mel?”
“The best excuse in life. Self-preservation. It’s the first law of human nature.”
“Just starting a backfire, eh?”
Mellenger nodded and put on his dinner jacket. “I suppose you have observed that women usually marry the men they make up their minds to marry.”
“No, I have not observed it.”
“You’re a greater numbskull than I thought you were. Two women have made up their minds to get you, and one of them is going to succeed.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, I suppose Maisie Morrison is safe in her bed by this time, crying herself to sleep, wondering how she is ever to muster the courage to face you again after tonight. Better send her some flowers in the morning and ask her to go for a drive with you. That will put her at her ease. I managed to give Tamea some food for thought, and with her sleep has been out of the question. She looked out of her bedroom window and saw Maisie drive away. Then she crept downstairs, and even now she is sitting out on the hall stairs listening to every word we say. Tamea! Enter!”
Tamea appeared in the doorway.
“I am such a splendid clairvoyant. I can see around a corner,” Mellenger remarked dryly. . . . “Well, if I had heard the stairs squeak a little earlier in the evening I would not have talked so freely. Good night, Tamea. Good night, Dan. Thanks for a wonderful dinner and a wonderful evening. I’ll be back next Thursday night, as usual.”
He smiled patronizingly as, on his way to the door, he passed Tamea. She turned slowly and her fiery glance followed him.
“No, Monsieur Mellengair, you have made the great mistake. I am not the go-to-the-deuce kind. But if that is interesting, perhaps I shall make the experiment, no? Well, when I do I shall make it alone, thank you.”