"And that, perhaps, you do care for him,—just a little."
There! It was out. She had guessed aright.
"I thought as much," she said quietly.
"Then why did you ask me?"
"Listen," she began. "Do you recall the night you asked me to be of some service to you?"
"Perfectly."
"I have thought over that subject long and often. I wondered wherein that service could lie. During the night of Peggy's affair it dawned upon me that this stranger to whom I was presented, might be more artful than honest. I decided to form his acquaintance so that I might learn his identity, together with his mission in the city. I cherished the ambition of drawing certain information from him; and this I felt could be accomplished only by an assumed intimacy with him."
Stephen stopped suddenly. His whole person was tense and magnetic as he stared at her.
"Marjorie!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean it?"
"Truly. I read his character from the first. His critical attitude displeased me. But I had to pretend. I had to."