“I cannot understand,” she began, “why a man of your capabilities accepted the office of sheriff. Have you no ambition to make good in the future?”
“The future?” his smile was bitter. “The future can take care of itself. What concerns me is the present. Where did Pierre take you in your aunt’s car before breakfast this morning?”
Her lips curled in a disdainful smile. “If you wish to know, why not question Pierre?”
“Because I prefer to come to you rather than ask a servant,” he stated quietly. “Take your time, I’ll wait for an answer,” and he dropped into a chair by the side of the big sofa on which she was sitting.
“I see, patience is a virtue with you,” she remarked. “Is it, by chance, your only virtue?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Time will tell.” A glint of humor lit his deep-set eyes. She met his look for a second, then glanced away.
Through the drifting smoke of his cigarette Trenholm studied her intently; her beauty was undeniable and of an unusual type. He sighed. Was the droop at the corners of her mouth indicative of deceit? Was it in her to play straight?
Betty moved restlessly, suddenly conscious of his prolonged scrutiny. “Suppose I tell you that I went to early church in Upper Marlboro,” she said suddenly.
“On Wednesday?”
“Certainly. One can pray on any day.”