Rising, she said calmly, "I was not expecting any one, Mr.Rutlidge." Again he laughed--with unpleasant meaning.

"You certainly look to be very much at home." He moved confidently to the easel stool and, seating himself continued with a leering smile, "What's the matter with my taking the artist's place for a little while--at least, until he comes ?" The girl was too innocent to understand his assumption but her pure mind could not fail to sense the evil in his words.
"I had permission to come here this afternoon," she said--her voice trembling a little with the fear that she did not understand.

"Won't you go, please?
Neither Mr.King nor Mr.Lagrange are at home." "I do not doubt your having permission to come here," he returned, with meaning stress upon the word, "permission".

"I see you even carry a key to this really delightful room." He motioned with his head toward the door where he had seen the key in the lock, as she had left it.
At this, she grasped a hint of the man's thought and, for an instant, drew hack in shame.

Then, suddenly with a burst of indignant anger, she took a step toward him, demanding clearly; "Are you saying that I am in the habit of coming here to meet Mr.King ?" He laughed mockingly.