"I've more respect for Carnally's; he found the clue. But he was on the spot."
"And I was handicapped by being at home? Do you know I sometimes think I'm not altogether stupid?"
"You're exceptionally clever," said Andrew warmly. "You have a gift for seizing on the truth and sticking to it. I think it's because the truth is in you that you recognize it. That's different from smartness."
She checked him with a gesture of mocking rebuke.
"You should have learned that I don't expect you to pay me labored compliments."
"It wasn't labored; I believe it was a flash of insight," Andrew declared. He glanced at her face and laughed, looking baffled.
There was silence for the next few moments. Geraldine knew what the man thought of her, but she approved of the respectful diffidence he generally displayed. Now that he was safe, she preferred that they remain on a purely friendly footing for a time; he was hers, but she shrank with a fluttering timidity from an open surrender. It was not difficult to repulse him gently when he grew too bold. Nevertheless his wan and downcast appearance roused a deep and tender pity. She longed to hear his troubles and comfort him.
"You suddenly changed the subject we began," she said. "Were you not going to tell me why you feel depressed?"
"Something of the kind," replied Andrew. "It didn't seem a very happy topic."
"That was a mistake," declared Geraldine reproachfully. "You shouldn't have doubted my interest, and it lightens one's troubles to confide in a friend."