Aynesworth left the house,
and lit a cigarette upon the pavement outside with a little sigh of
relief. He felt somehow humiliated. Did she fancy, he wondered, that
he was a callow boy to dance to any tune of her piping--that he had
never before seen a beautiful woman who wanted her own way?
THE GOSPEL OF HATE
"And what," Wingrave asked his secretary as they sat at dinner that
night, "did you think of Lady Ruth?"
"In plain words, I should not like to tell you," Aynesworth answered.
"I only hope that you will not send me to see her again."
"Why not?"
"Lady Ruth," Aynesworth answered deliberately, "is a very beautiful
woman, with all the most dangerous gifts of Eve when she wanted her
own way. She did me the scanty honor of appraising me as an easy
victim, and she asked questions."
"For instance?"
"She wanted me to tell her if you still had in your possession certain
letters of hers," Aynesworth said.
"Good! What did you say?"
"I told her, of course," Aynesworth continued, "that having been in
your service for a few hours only, I was scarcely in a position to
know. I ventured further to remind her that such questions, addressed
from her to me, were, to say the least of it, improper."
Wingrave's lips parted in what should have been a smile, but the
spirit of mirth was lacking.
"And then?"
"There was nothing else," Aynesworth answered. "She simply dismissed
me.
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