He said nothing; she looked at him, lazily amused; then, inattentive, turned and paced the floor again.
“Shall I see you to-morrow?” he demanded.
“If you wish. Captain Voucher came down on the same train with me. I'll set him adrift if you like.”
“Is he preparing for a declaration?” sneered Quarrier.
“I think so,” she said simply.
“Well if he comes to-night after I'm gone, you wait a final word from me. Do you understand?” he repeated with repressed violence.
“No, Howard. Are you going to propose to me to-morrow?”
“You'll know to-morrow,” he retorted angrily. “I tell you to wait. I've a right to that much consideration anyway.”
“Very well, Howard,” she said, recognising in him the cowardice which she had always suspected to be there.
She bade him good night; he touched her hand but made no offer to kiss her. She laughed a little to herself, watching him striding toward the elevator, then, closing the door, she stood still in the centre of the room, staring at her own reflection, full length, in the gilded pier-glass, her lips edged with a sneer so like Quarrier's that, the next moment she laughed aloud, imitating Quarrier's rare laugh from sheer perversity.