‘Nothing of the sort,—­you couldn’t be too early.’

’Thank you.—­When you pay a compliment, even so neat an one as that, sometimes, you should look as if you meant it.—­It is early,—­I know it’s early, but afterwards I want you to come to lunch.  I told aunt that I would bring you back with me.’

‘You are much better to me than I deserve.’

‘Perhaps.’  A tone came into her voice which was almost pathetic.  ’I think that to some men women are almost better than they deserve.  I don’t know why.  I suppose it pleases them.  It is odd.’  There was a different intonation,—­a dryness.  ’Have you forgotten what I came for?’

’Not a bit of it,—­I am not quite the brute I seem.  You came to see an illustration of that pleasant little fancy of mine for slaughtering my fellows.  The fact is, I’m hardly in a mood for that just now,—­I’ve been illustrating it too much already.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, for one thing it’s been murdering Lessingham’s cat.’

‘Mr Lessingham’s cat?’

‘Then it almost murdered Percy Woodville.’

‘Mr Atherton!—­I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.’

’It’s a fact.  It was a question of a little matter in a wrong place, and, if it hadn’t been for something very like a miracle, he’d be dead.’

’I wish you wouldn’t have anything to do with such things—­I hate them.’

I stared.

‘Hate them?—­I thought you’d come to see an illustration.’

‘And pray what was your notion of an illustration?’

‘Well, another cat would have had to be killed, at least.’

’And do you suppose that I would have sat still while a cat was being killed for my—­edification?’

’It needn’t necessarily have been a cat, but something would have had to be killed,—­how are you going to illustrate the death-dealing propensities of a weapon of that sort without it?’

’Is it possible that you imagine that I came here to see something killed?’

‘Then for what did you come?’

I do not know what there was about the question which was startling, but as soon as it was out, she went a fiery red.

‘Because I was a fool.’

I was bewildered.  Either she had got out of the wrong side of bed, or I had,—­or we both had.  Here she was, assailing me, hammer and tongs, so far as I could see, for absolutely nothing.

‘You are pleased to be satirical at my expense.’

’I should not dare.  Your detection of me would be so painfully rapid.’

I was in no mood for jangling.  I turned a little away from her.  Immediately she was at my elbow.

‘Mr Atherton?’

‘Miss Grayling.’

‘Are you cross with me?’

’Why should I be?  If it pleases you to laugh at my stupidity you are completely justified.’

‘But you are not stupid.’

‘No?—­Nor you satirical.’

’You are not stupid,—­you know you are not stupid; it was only stupidity on my part to pretend that you were.’