"How does she explain that?"
"She does not explain it. She explains nothing. She just sets her teeth and repeats her wretched formula that she burned nothing."
"What took her up to the flat at all then, just when her friend was dying?"
"She says Mrs Brand sent her up to see if her portrait was safe. But Mr Brand does not believe that either, as he says he had already told his wife that it was uninjured."
"This Miss Black is a strong liar," said Stephen. "I should not have guessed it from her face. She looked as straight and innocent as a child; but one never can tell."
"I imagine I do not look like a liar. But would you say if I also were accused of lying that you never can tell?"
Stephen was taken aback. He bit his little finger and frowned at the wonderful roses in front of him.
"I know you speak the truth," he said, "because you have spoken it to me. I should believe what you said—always—under any circumstances."
"You believe in my truthfulness from experience. Do you never believe by intuition?"
"Not often."