She thought a moment. "You wish it?"
"No, madame."
She turned away. "Then why ask me? You said there could not be two heads in this command."
I sobered. "Now that was a cat's scratch," I rebuked. "You have never done that before."
The gentleness of her look made me ashamed. "You are suspicious of me," she said a little sadly. "That was not a scratch, monsieur. I said what I mean; I prefer to leave the decision in your hands."
"But your wish?"
"It is confused, monsieur."
"But your sense of justice in the matter?"
She was silent a moment, and walked up and down. "I have been trying to see the right ever since I read the letter," she said quietly. "This is the best answer I can make. I think that we had better avoid meeting Lord Starling, monsieur."
I stepped to her side and matched my pace to hers. The robin had been joined by his mate, and they were singing. "Why, madame?" I asked her, and when she was still silent I persisted. "Why, madame?"