“What about you?” she flared. “You don’t know that I ran along the hall before Susan screamed—because I didn’t! So you’re telling whoppers yourself! You’re a fine one to throw stones!”
Landis looked down at her inscrutably.
“You propose to stick to your story, eh?” he inquired.
“You bet I do,” she flashed, “because it’s true!”
“You didn’t show any marked respect for veracity the last time we questioned you here, Miss Harrison!”
Anita leaned back in her chair.
“Well,” she murmured, “I just couldn’t bring myself to lie to a man like you any longer! It’s your forceful personality that’s done it!”
Landis felt such an overpowering impulse to slap her that it showed in his eyes. Anita flopped back in her chair and drew up her pretty knees in self-defense.
“Don’t you dare!” she warned, with a quaver of excited laughter.
Disgusted with her and himself as well, Landis turned on his heel and paced the length of the room, at a loss and bitterly aware of it. At length he turned back to her, composed again.