"But—but there is nothing in it except samples of marble—"
"What!" she exclaimed nervously. "What did you say? Samples of marble?"
"Marble, madam! Georgia marble!"
"Oh! So you are the young man who goes about pretending to peddle Georgia marble from samples! Are you? The famous marble man I have heard of."
"I? Madam, I don't know what you mean!"
"Come!" she said scornfully; "let me see the contents of that suit case. I—I am not afraid of you; I am not a bit afraid of you. And I shall catch your accomplice, too."
"Madam, you speak like an honest woman! You must have managed to enter the wrong house. This is number thirty-eight, where I live."
"It is number thirty-six; my house!"
"But I know it is number thirty-eight; Mr. Lee's house," he protested hopefully. "This is some dreadful mistake."
"Mr. Lee's house is next door," she said. "Do you not suppose I know my own house? Besides, I have been warned against a plausible young man who pretends he has Georgia marble to sell—"