Already in her mind were the countless little incidents which had puzzled her: there was the odd affair of the children getting into trouble because they sang the “Watch by the Rhine:” there was the incident only known to her to-night, of Private Jelf calling Aline a Hunnish woman: there was the incident of Simpson saying that they were in a Hun’s house: there was the incident of Aline’s great high spirits on the day of the Russian reverse, and in that regard Mr. Boyton’s very acid comments. More vivid than all these was her own psychological surprise at finding that Aline was so tremendously English, and her own registration of Aline as an acquaintance, and not a friend. On the other hand, she was sure that Aline regarded her as a friend.
Rapidly reviewed, this last consideration seemed to her to take precedence of all the others. She had to rank as a friend of Aline’s.
“I have no reasonable reason for distrusting what Aline tells me,” she said. “I have no real doubt in my mind as to her sincerity.”
He thought over this a moment.
“You qualify what you say by saying ‘reasonable,’ and by saying ‘real,’” he said.
She looked at him, playing with her pearls. Her hand was quite steady now.
“Then I will leave out those words,” she said, “if you think they qualify my meaning. I have no intention of doubting the Gurtners’ sincerity.”
“Ah: intention,” he said.
That was another qualifying phrase, and she recognized it as such the moment she had uttered it.
“Let us come to the point,” she said. “What is it you want me to do?”