“And I daresay you are a man of property?”
“I am independent.”
“Well, well, there it is.” Miss Sibson smoothed out the lap of her silk dress.
“I do not think,” he said, in some embarrassment, “that five minutes’ talk would hurt her.”
“Umph!”
He laughed—an awkward laugh. “Come, Miss Sibson,” he said. “Let us have the five minutes, and let us both have the chance.”
She looked out of the window, and rubbed her glasses reflectively. “Well,” she said at length, as if she had not quite made up her mind, “I will be quite frank with you, Mr. Vaughan. I did not intend to be so, but you have met me half-way, and I believe you to be a gentleman. The truth is, I should not have gone as far with you as I have unless”—she looked at him suddenly—“I had had a character of you.”
“Of me?” he cried in astonishment.
“Yes.”
“From Miss Smith?”