"Have you succeeded in learning anything about Edith's?" she asked.
"Not yet," I answered.
A shadow crossed her face. Her colour deepened.
"You have seen Edith?"
"I have just left her," said I. "She told me of your suspicions. They are not the truth, but I don't blame you for having them."
She made an impatient gesture with her hand.
"I should hardly describe them as suspicions, Mr. Clamart," said she, and gave me a straight look. "They are rather more than that."
"Indeed?" I answered. It struck me all of a sudden that Chu-Chu must have left some more convincing evidence the second time than he did the first. But I was rather beyond caring much about that now. Edith believed in me and that was enough.
Miss Dalghren's intent blue eyes never left mine. I began to feel my patience squirming around a bit. Thought I, this fool of a girl thinks that she knows something and is trying to make me 'fess up. Even if she were right, I wonder if she thinks her will is stronger than mine? Does she take me for a Sunday-school scholar? Or a pilfering valet-de-chambre? I began to get angry. Miss Dalghren was one of those noble, upright women who are so straight that they bend over backward. For that kind, all humanity is divided into two big classes; good and bad. There is nothing between. Such people have an unbounded faith in the militant strength of virtue. Secure in their own they are convinced that no sinful person can meet the power
