"I don't know what you mean," she protested. "It's very horrid of people to imagine things, and it certainly isn't my fault. Trevor understands that. He always understands."
"Let us hope he always will," said Jack.
"He would trust me even if he didn't," said Chris.
"At the same time," said Jack, "I shouldn't try his faith too far if I were you. If you ever overstepped it, I have a notion that it might be—well, somewhat unpleasant for you."
He spoke the words with a smile, but the silence with which they were received had in it something that was tragic. Chris was gazing straight before her as they rode. Her expression was curiously stony, as if, by some means, her customary animation had been suspended. Jack wondered a little. After a moment she spoke, without looking round. "Jack!"
"Your humble servant!" said Jack.
"I'm not laughing," she said. "I want you to tell me something. You know Trevor. You knew him years before I did. Have you ever seen him—really angry?"
"Great Jove! yes," said Jack.
"Many times?" There was a little quiver in her voice, but it did not sound exactly agitated.
"No, not many times. He isn't the sort of fellow to let himself go, you know," said Jack.