"Tell me this," she said, her anxiety rising above her prudence, "do you rely upon him? Do you trust him?"
"Why, in a way," he answered evasively, adding sharply, "why do you ask that?"
She made a gesture of impatience.
"You don't like him, eh?"
Her shoulders twisted with an indefinable displeasure.
"Why not?"
"I could never trust—that man!" she said desperately. "It's a woman's instinct, that's all."
"Nonsense," he answered with great good humor, "Bofinger's square as they make 'em. He is not a lady's man, I know. But he's got sense—horse sense, and Sheila, my dear, if you ever want advice, go to him."
She opened her eyes very wide at this and said nothing more, turning it over and seeking some explanation in the tangle of the evening.
"I've been a fool," she thought, glancing at the satisfied face of Fargus. "I've played into Bofinger's hands—whereas I ought to have made Fargus jealous."