"If I dared to confide in you!" she murmured.
"Dear Sara," I ventured—we had progressed so far—"what is to prevent it? You know that I am your slave."
She drew a dispatch from the bosom of her gown.
"Listen," she said. "There is a secret in my life which has troubled me many times—more than ever," she murmured, dropping her eyes, "since I have known you."
I did not hesitate to play her game, because in my mind I knew that she was deceiving me.
"Tell me?" I begged. "I am impatient to hear."
"There is one in my family," she continued, "who is a criminal."
"What does that matter," I answered, "so long as it is not you?"
"You feel like that, Maurice?" she exclaimed earnestly.
"Indeed I do," I assured her.