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." "We will talk about that presently," she interrupted.