Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. "Surely," he added, staring at Rowland, "either I'm greatly mistaken, or it is—" "You are not mistaken, Baptist," returned Rowland with a gesture of silence; "it is your old friend. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. C. “You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there.
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