“All Mr Rutherford’s keys! What do you mean?”
“I cannot tell you. Will you trust me? May I have them?”
“You are making a bold and extraordinary request.”
“I know it.”
“And you won’t explain?”
“I can’t explain. Oh! Mr Gray, please let me have the keys.”
The lawyer looked me all over from head to foot; his searching eyes travelled over my person.
“At least, Rosamund Lindley, you are honest,” he said. “If you open drawers, you won’t steal.”
“No,” I said, proudly.
“If you peer into secret places, you won’t disturb? I see order written across your forehead, Rosamund, and determination sits comfortably on those firm lips of yours, and courage and honesty dwell in your eyes. There! I’m an old fool, I suppose; but chit of a girl as you are, I am going to trust you. If you want those keys, you may have them.”