The words came fast and passionate. She drew back from him to utter them, and for the first time he read a challenge in her desperate eyes.
He let her go out of his arms. He had tried to bridge the gulf, but the distance was too great. His tenderness only gave her courage to defy him.
With a stifled sigh he abandoned the conflict. "As I said before, there is no question of his guilt," he said, with quiet emphasis. "Far from denying it, he even announced his intention of restoring what he had taken. That, of course, is also out of the question. He will probably never be in a position to do so. But in any case it is beside the point. It is useless to discuss it further."
She broke in upon him almost fiercely. "Trevor, won't you believe me when
I say that I know—I know—he is innocent?"
He looked at her. "How do you know it?"
She wrung her hands together. "Oh, I have no proof! Can't you believe me without proof?"
He was watching her intently. "I believe in your sincerity, of course," he said. "But I am afraid I don't share your conviction."
"But you must—you must!" she cried. "I know him better than you do. I know him to be incapable of the tiniest speck of dishonour. I swear that he is innocent! I swear it! I swear it!"
He put out a restraining hand. "Chris, don't say any more! You are only upsetting yourself to no purpose. Come, child, it is useless to go on—quite useless."
She flung out her arms with a gesture of utter despair. "You won't believe me?"