"Oh, it is not that," and she looked up into my face. "I am not afraid. Only I cannot bear the thought that you doubt me ever so little. I know I have been indiscreet, that you might justly deem me an adventuress. But I am not, Gordon Craig; I am a good woman left to fight alone, and I must have your faith, or break down utterly."
"Why do you suppose you have not?" I asked, grasping her hands in complete forgetfulness. "We are together now in open fight against these villains. There is no longer any purpose in acting a lie."
"It was a lie?"
"A bare-faced one. Never for an instant did I intend deserting you, or becoming that man's tool."
"And you believe me—all I have told you; that I am really the wife of Philip Henley?"
"Yes," I answered through clinched teeth, struggling to control myself.
For a moment she sat in silence, and, while I dare not look at her, I knew her eyes were upon my face.
"Then I will do whatever you say, go wherever you tell me," she promised gravely. "I cannot decide for myself. I am too confused to think clearly, but I trust you as a friend."
"Is—is that all?" I stammered, unable to restrain the words.
"All! What do you mean? is that not enough?" in surprise.