She paused and sat motionless, while she hung with suspended breath upon his reply.
For a moment the lawyer hesitated, nervously twirling his glasses between his thumb and forefinger; then he slowly shook his head and looked from her to the fire.
"Twenty years are not as a day, despite your scorn, my dear young lady, and many facts become overlaid with fiction in a shorter time."
"But you know something—and you believe still more."
"God forbid that I should convert you to any belief of mine."
She put out a protesting hand, her eyes still gravely insistent.
"Tell me all—I demand it. It is my right; you must see that."
"A right to demolish sand houses—to scatter old dust."
"A right to hear the truth. Surely you will not withhold it from me?"
"I don't know the truth, so I can't enlighten you. I know only the stories of both sides, and they resemble each other merely in that they both center about the same point of interest."
"Then you will tell them to me—you must," she said earnestly. "Tell me first, word for word, all that the Blakes believe of us."