I should have
thought bohemian would have been more the word."
Loder felt disconcerted and annoyed. Either, like himself,
she was fishing for information, or she was deliberately
playing with him. In his perplexity he glanced across the
room towards the fireplace.
Lillian saw the look. "Won't you sit down?" she said,
indicating the couch. "I promise not to make you smoke. I
sha'n't even ask you to take off your gloves!"
Loder made no movement. His mind was unpleasantly upset. It
was nearly a fortnight since he had seen Lillian, and in the
interval her attitude had changed, and the change puzzled him.
It might mean the philosophy of a woman who, knowing herself
without adequate weapons, withdraws from a combat that has
proved fruitless; or it might imply the merely catlike desire
to toy with a certainty. He looked quickly at the delicate
face, the green eyes somewhat obliquely set, the unreliable
mouth; and instantly he inclined to the latter theory. The
conviction that she possessed the telegram filled him
suddenly, and with it came the desire to put his belief to the
test--to know beyond question whether her smiling unconcern
meant malice or mere entertainment.
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