She laughed tormentingly, eyes and cheeks brilliant, now undisguisedly on guard—her first acknowledgment that in this man she condescended to divine the hereditary adversary.
"I mean to punish," said her eyes.
"What an attack from a clear sky on a harmless young man," he said, at last.
"No, an attack from the fog on an insufferable egoist—an ambush, Mr. Desboro. And I thought a little sword-play might do your complacent wits a service. Has it?"
"But you begin by a dozen thrusts, then beat down my guard, and cuff me about with blade and pommel——"
"I had to. Now, does your vanity believe that my return to Silverwood was influenced by your piteous appeal over the wire—and your bad temper, too?"
"No," he said solemnly.
"Well, then! I came here partly to put my notes in better shape for Mr. Sissly, partly to clear up odds and ends and leave him a clear field to plow—in your persistent company," she added, with such engaging malice that even the name of Sissly, which he hated, made him laugh.
"You won't do that," he said confidently.
"Do what, Mr. Desboro?"