She looked at me startled. "You heard!" she said defiantly. "Were they the words of a guilty man?"
"Not if I know anything about human nature," I said promptly.
The sweetest gratitude lighted up her face. "Oh, thank you!" she said. She was very near tears. "Anything else would be unbelievable!"
"Give me one day more," I suggested.
"No! No!" she cried with surprising energy. "I will not carry this tragic farce any further. I hate the pearls now. I would not wear them if I did get them back. They are gone. Let them go!"
"But Miss Hamerton——" I persisted.
"Not another word!" she cried. "My mind is made up!"
"I must speak," I said doggedly. "Because you as much as said you depended on getting honest advice from me. You can't stop now. If you marry Mr. Quarles, the fact that you have suspected him though it was only for a moment will haunt you all your life. No marriage is a bed of roses. When trouble does come your grim spectre will invariably rise and mock you. It must be definitely laid in its grave before you can marry the man."
The bold style of my speech made her pause. I had never spoken to her in that way before. She eyed me frowning.
"I hope you know it's not the job I'm after," I went on. "I never had work to do that I enjoyed less. But you put it up to me to give you honest advice."