She had ignored his obvious intention of shaking hands, and he was not apparently in the least disconcerted by her refusal of the friendly overture.
"I feel sure, Mr. Kenion, that if we have a good talk, you and I will be able to understand each other."
"Er—yes, I hope so."
"I think it is important that you and I should understand each other as soon as possible."
"Thanks awfully. I'm sure it's very good of you to let me come. I know how busy you are."
He was looking at various objects in the room, and a slow smile flickered about his small mouth. He looked especially at some files on the desk, and at the massive door of one of the big safes standing ajar and displaying iron shelves. He looked at these things with childish interest; and Mrs. Thompson felt annoyance from the thought that the smile was intended to convey the inference of his never having seen such things before, and of his being rather amused by them.
But she permitted no indication of her thoughts to escape her. The governing powers of her mind were concentrated on the business in hand; her face was a solid mask, expressing quiet strength, firm resolution, worldly shrewdness, and it never changed except in colour, now getting a little redder, now a little paler; she sat squarely, so that her revolving chair did not turn an inch to one side or the other; and throughout the interview she seemed and was redoubtable.
"My daughter tells me that you have proposed to her."
"Yes—I may as well say at once that I'm awfully in love.... And Enid has been good enough to—er—reciprocate. I'm sure I don't know what I've done to deserve such luck."
"Nor do I as yet, Mr. Kenion."