“I did not expect to stay so long,” he explained to her on one occasion, rising as she paused at the foot of the stairs.
“Then why do you?” she asked, coldly.
“Don’t you know?” he demanded. “Should you feel it pleasanter if I went away?”
“Really—as I have undertaken to be perfectly frank with you—how can your going or staying make the least difference in the world to me?”
“Still,” he said, looking at her curiously, “there must be something tiresome in having to be scorning somebody all the time.”
“I think,” she said, briefly, “I hear voices in the billiard room. I am going in there.”
If at dinner Leeds found himself next to her he discovered that she spoke to him no more than the strict letter of the law governing the conduct of guests in the same house demanded. What she said was of the most indifferent nature. If he sought to reach a more personal basis he found himself checked.
“Miss Whiting,” he said, suddenly, on the third evening, “I am going away to-morrow morning.”
Miriam swung about swiftly.
“To-morrow!” she exclaimed, with a catch in her voice.