"Yes, you're right," I admitted. "But go on. I'm more interested in him than in his sister."
"Are you? I've imagined her the more interesting—the more repaying—of the two. I see O'Farrell, not a bad fellow, but—not sure. I don't believe he's even sure of himself, whether he wants to be straight or crooked. How he turns out will depend—on circumstances, or perhaps on some woman. If he travels with us, he'll be a pleasant companion, there's no doubt. But——"
"But—what?"
"Well, we must always keep in mind that he's an actor. We mustn't take too seriously anything he says or does. And you, Molly—you must be more careful than the rest."
"I! But I told you I'd never met him at St. Raphael. I never set eyes on him till last night."
"I know. Yet I felt, when he 'set eyes' on you—oh, I don't know how to express what I felt! Only—if it had happened on the stage, there'd have been music for it in the orchestra."
"Brian, how strange you are!" I almost gasped. "Ought we to let the man and his sister go on with us, if that's their aim? Their Red Cross flag may be camouflage, you know! Very likely they're adventurers, after the Beckett's money. We could advise Father and Mother Beck——"
"Let's follow a famous example, and 'wait and see'—if only for the girl's sake."
"Oh, you think so well of her!"
"Not well, exactly," Brian hesitated. "I don't know what to think of her yet. But—I think about her. I feel her, as I feel electricity before a thunderstorm bursts."