His answer was to swing his chair around beside hers, facing the blazing logs, and to take out his case and light a cigarette.
"I'm going to tell you everything," she said in a low tone.
"I'm glad of that."
"I'm going to do it," she went on slowly, "for two reasons. The first is that—that you've lost faith in me."
This brought his eyes around to hers in a quick glance. "You're wrong about that."
She shook her head. "Oh, no, I'm not. You showed it almost from the moment you came, and there was an instant when you thought that my suggestion to wait till dark to get away meant a—a sort of ambush."
He made no reply to this, and she said urgently, "Didn't you? Come, now. Confess."
He reflected for a moment.
"The idea did cross my mind," he admitted, at last. "But it didn't linger. For one reason, it was impossible to reconcile it with Shaw's desire to keep me out of the way. That, and this, are hard to understand. But no harder to understand," he went on, "than that you should willingly come here and yet send for me, and then quite obviously delay our leaving after I get here."
Again her eyes dropped before his brilliant, steady glance.