"I couldn't tell anything about that. I simply knew you could do the work—from all the points of view."
"And do you think I've done it?"
"I know you've done it. You couldn't do anything else. I won't go back of that."
If my heart gave a sudden leap at these words it was because of the tone. It betrayed that quality behind the tone to which I had been responding, and of which I had been afraid, ever since I knew the man. By a great effort I kept my words on the casual, friendly plane, as I said:
"Your confidence is flattering, but it doesn't help me. What I want to know is this: Assuming that they love each other, should I allow myself to be used as the pretext for their meetings?"
"Does it do you any harm?"
"Does it do them any good?"
"Couldn't you let that be their affair?"
"How can I, when I'm dragged into it?"
"If you're only dragged into it to the extent of this afternoon—"