"You told me you had neither brothers nor sisters," Garrison reminded her a little sternly. "These were not forgotten?"
"They are stepbrothers only—by marriage. I thought I could leave them out," she explained, flushing as she tried to meet his gaze. "Please don't think I meant to deceive you very much."
"It was a technical truth," he told her; "but isn't it time you told me everything? You ran off before I could even reply to something you appeared to wish to know. You——"
"But you don't suspect me?" she interrupted, instantly reverting to the question she had put before, in that moment of her impulse to run. "I couldn't bear it if I thought you did!"
"If I replied professionally, I should say I don't know what to think," he said. "The whole affair is complicated. As a matter of fact, I cannot seem to suspect you of anything wrong, but you've got to help me clear it as fast as I can."
She met his gaze steadily, for half a minute, then tears abruptly filled her eyes, and she lowered her gaze to the floor.
"Thank you, Jerold," she murmured, and a thrill went straight to his heart. "I am very much worried, and very unhappy—but I haven't done anything wrong—and nothing like that!—not even a wicked thought like that! I loved my uncle very dearly."
She broke down and turned away to give vent to an outburst of grief.
"There, there," said Garrison after a moment. "We must do the best we can. If you will tell me more, my help is likely to be greater."
Dorothy dried her eyes and resumed her courage heroically.