“Then I presume that the story regarding your husband is also a fiction?” I said, surprised that I had previously formed such an entirely wrong impression of her.
“No, not exactly,” she responded. “I hope to have the pleasure of introducing you to him some day ere long.”
“I shall of course be delighted,” I answered in a tone which I fear did not convey any desire on my part to be honoured by the baronet’s acquaintance. “But, having deceived me as you have to-day, I confess that my confidence is somewhat shaken.”
She laughed and raised her hand to her hair.
“Ah! it is always best to commence by being enemies and to end by being friends.”
“You intend, then, that we shall be friends?”
“Of course. That is the reason why I asked you to call on me.”
“But where have you seen me?”
“Oh, in lots of places,” she answered vaguely. Her attitude was very strange. Could it be possible that she had seen me, and, becoming attracted by my personal appearance, had found out who and what I was? Was it possible that she intended that I should be her lover?
The thought flashed across my mind as she sat there smiling upon me, displaying an even row of pearly teeth, while her face was radiant with triumph and happiness. I had promised friendship to this woman, who had so cleverly formed my acquaintance.