"I will trust you," he said; "I will help you, blindly, since it must be so. Let me ask you two or three questions, then all questioning between us shall be at an end."
"I am ready to answer any inquiry that it is possible for me to answer."
"Your name?"
"My name is Honoria Milford."
"Your age?"
"Eighteen."
"Tell me, how is it that your manner of speaking, your tones of voice, are those of a person who has received a superior education?"
"I am not entirely uneducated. An Italian priest, a cousin of my poor mother's, bestowed some care upon me when I was in Florence. He was a very learned man, and taught me much that is rarely taught to a girl of fourteen or fifteen. His house was my refuge in days of cruel misery, and his teaching was the only happiness of my life. And now, sir, question me no further, I entreat you."
"Very well, then, I will ask no more; and I will trust you."
"I thank you, sir, for your generous confidence."