"You're just—wonderful," she dabbed her eyes. "I know you think I'm dirt and I am—"
"Don't be silly. Why should I think that? I am not even sorry for you. Are you sorry for the train that is derailed? You put it back on the track. That is what I am doing. I am one of the derailers. It amused me, it hurt you—oh, yes, it did. I know I was not 'the first', there would be an excuse for me in that event. We are all dirt if it comes to that—dirt is matter in the wrong place. I want to put you where you belong."
She was incoherent in her gratitude, awed a little by his seriousness and detachment, prodigiously surprised that François remained on duty.
When on her way to the hotel which was to shelter her, she read the evening newspaper, she could appreciate more fully just what Ronnie had done.
"Read this!" said Evie tragically.
Christina took the newspaper from her hands.
"'A curious case'—is that what you mean?"
The report was a full one, remembering how late in the day the charge had come up for hearing.
"Well?" said Christina, when she had finished reading.
"I shall write to Ronald." Evie was very stiff, very determined, sourly virginal. "Of course, you can't believe all that you read in the newspapers, but there is no smoke without fire."