‘Well, I haven’t always trusted you. In fact, I’ve always suspected you.’
‘I know it, my dear Davidina, but as it amuses you and had left off hurting me—why not?’
‘And now,’ she went on, as if he had not interrupted her, ‘I don’t know whether to suspect you or not.’
‘You’d much better,’ he said.
‘The truth is I’m puzzled!’
‘The truth often is very puzzling,’ assented Jonathan, ‘it’s so relative.’ Then he got up and stretched himself like a cat enjoying the sun.
‘And I still think,’ said Davidina decidedly, ‘that you are capable of being a villain, and a blood-thirsty villain too, if it suited you.’
Mr. Trimblerigg continued to stretch and to smile at her.
‘Oh, Davidina,’ he said, ‘you are a comfortable person to talk to!’
And at that he let her go. For once, just for once in his life he had got the better of her. Davidina was puzzled at him. It was a great event.