"Pray be seated," she said in a low voice. "My servant tells me you have called on a matter of business."
"Not exactly business," I answered. "But first, you must allow me to introduce myself to you as Mr. Thorburn, your neighbour."
She regarded me earnestly. I paused: another moment's silence would have embarrassed me, so I said hardily:
"I shall wholly depend on your kindness not to make me feel more painfully the trying position in which I have placed myself. The intrusion," continued I, nervousness making my apology elaborate, "will only seem all the more unwarrantable when I tell you that I am fully aware of your love of solitude and your aversion to intruders. But"——
She interrupted me, turning her back to the window, the better to see me, and not to be seen:
"You sent me a bouquet the other day?"
"I ventured to take the liberty."
"You must have thought my rejection rude. It was meant to be rude. How, Sir, knowing my aversion to intruders, could you have taken that liberty? Did you think it would lead to an introduction?"
Her language gave me confidence. Had she sweetly thanked me for my attention or apologised for her rudeness, she would, I think, have confounded me too much for my wits. But this tone of hers brought her down to my level. I could meet her on equal ground.
"I sent you that bouquet," I answered, "because I judged by your love of gardening that you were fond of flowers. The action was not designed as a rudeness. It was a mere neighbourly act"——