nor why the blood heated my cheeks. I answered shortly:
"No. I am not so fortunate."
"Ah! I shouldn't be surprised if you were so fortunate, a little later on."
Her tone conveyed a world of meaning; though what was its signification I could not tell. I suspected her of hinting at something which I should resent; but how to set about the discovery of what she meant I did not know. She continued:
"Suppose—I say suppose, just for the sake of argument—suppose it turns out that Bessie has killed this—man, I wonder what would happen."
"I decline to suppose the impossible."
"But how can you say that it's impossible? You're not in a position to judge; you know nothing of her character, her disposition. She's a stranger—to you."
"I know enough of her to be sure that she is incapable of anything unworthy."
"But how do you know?—my dear sir, how? From what you tell me, she hasn't said an intelligent thing to you; she's been in a condition of non compos mentis ever since you set eyes upon her. After an hour's exchange of conversational bonbons with a lunatic woman, how can you tell what she's like when she's sane?"
"Miss Adair, if you are coming as Miss
