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"We'll cut out the question of ownership. What's more to the point, is, what the devil you're doing in my house? If you wanted to see me, why didn't you wait for me to come to you? My wife is upstairs," he went on severely, "and my daughter all around the place. They probably both know you, even though they don't know.... You might have waited——"

"I couldn't do that," she answered, faltering. "I—I had to see you, and I couldn't wait. Do you suppose I would have come here—to your home—if there hadn't been some urgency about it. I wrote; you did not answer."

"The Tri-State kept me on the jump," he half apologised. "I had no time to read love letters——"

"Love letters? Indeed!" she interjected, and then went on: "I called at the Trust Company office to see you, sent messages, called you up on the 'phone, but to no avail. I had to see you even at the risk of your displeasure. Besides, no one has seen me but you."

Wilkinson started.

"You've been here in this room all the time—what?"

"Behind those curtains," she informed him, emphasising her words with a nod toward them.