“I don’t see how—if you weren’t there.”
I began to stamp about the room. I had forgotten that the fact of her being a woman made a difference in all sorts of ways. The situation was more complicated than I had allowed for.
“Miss Moore, I’m an idiot.”
“Yes?”
There was something in the way in which she laid emphasis on the note of interrogation which robbed the word of its sting.
“But I’m not, in some respects, such an idiot as you might suppose.”
“Oh.”
This was said with a twinkle of laughter.
“Can you trust me?”
“With my life; with what is dearer.”