"How well do you know him?"
"I don't think I know him very well," she replied with attempted frankness.
"You had not been here with me long until you knew I was investigating these railroad thefts, and that he was suspected?"
"I was not quite sure—you let me know so very little," she replied with an ease that was somewhat exasperating.
"Yet, during that time you were with me in—well, rather a confidential capacity—you went out with him to public places, drinking places, and could not be in ignorance of his real purpose; in fact, his proposals were outright?"
"Y-e-s," she faltered, raising her eyes, now lighted with a fire I thought impossible. I could not determine whether from resentment toward me or the recalling of certain indignities she had experienced.
"What is your attitude toward him now?"
"The same as it has always been," she replied, her bosom heaving as a result of her mental agitation.
I knew I was master now, so leisurely lit another cigar and blew a cloud of smoke between us, contemplatively.
"What is his attitude toward you?"