"If a prisoner is dangerous, she has to be watched, whatever class she's in. As a rule."
"I see. In this case they trust to our honor."
Singleton hesitated.
"A—yes. It'll be an immense relief to her to have some one she can talk to freely. I wouldn't be surprised—you see, she's bottled herself up so long—I wouldn't be surprised if she took you more into her confidence than ever she's done yet. I'd be careful if I were you," he said with unusual earnestness, "very careful not to discourage that confidence."
"I don't think it the least likely she'll take me into her confidence," the girl returned on a note of regret, not daring to admit the thrill that ran through her at thought of being the chosen confidante of a prisoner—a Prisoner of the First Class, above all, of the erring, the wonderful Greta. Nan was the freer to speculate about her now that the pain of cutting the woman out of her heart was eased. To serve one who had been her friend would satisfy every canon. If it satisfied a hitherto unquenched curiosity as well—
"You couldn't make a greater mistake," Singleton was saying with that new earnestness of his, "than to discourage any confidence.
"Oh, I wouldn't, not for the world I wouldn't discourage her."
"Do the other thing," he said impressively in her ear as the car stopped.
"Are we there?" Nan started up in excitement.
"Wait a moment." He let down the window and put his head out to speak to the driver. The car turned in the gray light and went on a few yards.