“But I particularly do not wish to have to meet that charge in any court of law, Miss Claiborne.”
She met his gaze very steadily, and her eyes were grave. Then she asked, in much the same tone that she would have used if they had been very old friends and he had excused himself for not riding that day, or for not going upon a hunt, or to the theater:
“Why?”
“Because I have a pledge to keep and a work to do, and if I were forced to defend myself from the charge of being the false Baron von Kissel, everything would be spoiled. You see, unfortunately—most unfortunately—I am not quite without responsibilities, and I have come down into the mountains, where I hope not to be shot and tossed over a precipice until I have had time to watch certain people and certain events a little while. I tried to say as much to Captain Claiborne, but I saw that my story did not impress him. And now I have said the same thing to you—”
He waited, gravely watching her, hat in hand.
“And I have stood here and listened to you, and done exactly what Captain Claiborne would not wish me to do under any circumstances,” said Shirley.
“You are infinitely kind and generous—”
“No. I do not wish you to think me either of those things—of course not!”
Her conclusion was abrupt and pointed.
“Then—”