"See here, my child," she said gently, "this will never do. Before I tell you this story there is something you must be sure of. Look at me. No matter what else you may think of me do you believe me to be capable of telling you a falsehood when a make a statement to you upon my honor?"
Her eyes met mine fairly and squarely. Mrs. Underwood has wonderful eyes, blue-gray, expressive. They shone out from the atrocious mask of make-up which she always uses, and I unreservedly accepted the message they carried to me.
"I am sure you would not deceive me," I returned quickly, and meant it.
"Thank you. Then before I begin my story I am going to assure you of one thing, upon—my—honor."
She spoke slowly, impressively, her eyes never wavering from mine.
"You have heard rumors about Dicky and me; you will hear things from me today which will show you that the rumors were justified in part, and yet—I want you to believe me when I tell you that there is nothing in any past association of your husband and myself which would make either of us ashamed to look you straight in the eyes."
I believed her! I would challenge anyone in the world to look into those clear, honest eyes and doubt their owner's truth.
There was a long minute when I could not speak. I had not known the full measure of what I feared until her words lifted the burden from my soul.
Then I had my moment, recognized it, rose to it. I leaned forward and returned the earnest gaze of the woman opposite to me.
"Dear Mrs. Underwood," I said. "Why tell me any more? I am perfectly satisfied with what you have just told me. Be sure that no rumors will trouble me again."