He looked her in the eyes, square and unflinching. He was still
able to do that!
"It could not possibly interest you," he said.
"And-- my sister? You have seen her?"
"I have seen your sister," Tavernake answered, without
hesitation.
"You have a message for me?"
"None," he declared.
"She refuses-- to be reconciled, then?"
"I am afraid she has no friendly feelings towards you."
"She gave you no reason?"
"No direct reason," he admitted, "but her attitude is-- quite
uncompromising."
She rose and swept across the floor towards him. With firm but
gentle fingers she took his worn bowler hat and mended gloves
from his hand. Her gesture guided him towards a sofa.
"Beatrice has prejudiced you against me," she murmured. "It is
not fair. Please come and sit down-- for five minutes," she
pleaded. "I want you to tell me why you have quarrelled with
that funny little man, Mr. Dowling."
"But, madam,--" he protested.
"If you refuse, I shall think that my sister has been telling you
stories about me," she declared, watching him closely.
Tavernake drew a little away from her but seated himself on the
sofa which she had indicated. He took up as much room as
possible, and to his relief she did not persist in her first
intention, which was obviously to seat herself beside him.
"Your sister has told me nothing about you whatsoever," he said
deliberately. "At the same time, she asked me not to give you
her address.
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