"Now you are asking questions," she reminded me. "Believe me, you are safer, very much safer knowing nothing. If I were your friend—"
She hesitated. All the time her eyes were fixed upon me. She seemed to be trying to read the thoughts which were passing through my brain.
"If you were my friend," I repeated—"well?"
"I would give you some excellent advice," she said slowly.
"I am ready to take it!" I declared.
"On trust?"
"I believe so," I answered. "At least, you might give me the chance." She sank down upon the settee at the extreme end of the terrace. There was little chance here of being overheard, as we had a clear view of the only approach.
"After all," she said, "I do not think that it would be worth while. You belong to a class which I do not understand—which I do not pretend to understand. The things which seemed reasonable to me would probably seem banal to you. I am sure that it would be useless!"
"But why?" I persisted. "You have said so much, you must say more. I insist!"
A little wearily she pushed back the masses of hair from her forehead. Her head rested for a moment upon her fingers. Her eyes deliberately sought mine.