“Do you think—I—killed that man?”
“I am sure that you did not.”
She glanced up at me, her brow smoothed out, light in her eyes.
“You are sure? Oh? What makes you sure?”
“My own common sense. I have seen your brother, and I have heard from him what was the errand which took you to Edwin Lawrence. I can understand how your mind was strained, and what a very little more was needed to make that strain too much. But that in what took place you did nothing of which you have cause to be ashamed, I am convinced.”
“But she thinks I did it, and so does she; and—I’m not sure.”
She pointed first to Miss Adair and then to Mrs. Peddar.
“You’re dreaming. Miss Adair knows you too well to suppose the incredible.”
“But she does think I did it. Don’t you?”
In reply Miss Adair put her elbows on the table and her face on her hands, and burst into tears.