"Kill it," she urged softly.
"And my honesty with it."
"Oh, no. It can't be so fatal, to be kind for once. Let her off, poor child."
Hal stood irresolute.
"If it were I?" she insisted softly.
"If it were you, would you ask it?"
"I shouldn't have to. I'd trust you."
The sweetness of it shook him. But he still spoke steadily.
"Others trust me, now. The men in the office. Trust me to be honest."
Again she felt the solid wall of character blocking her design, and within herself raged and marveled, and more deeply, admired. Resentment was uppermost, however. Find a way through that barrier she must and would. Whatever scruples may have been aroused by his appeal to her she banished. No integer of the impressionable sex had ever yet won from her such a battle. None ever should: and assuredly not this one. The Great American Pumess was now all feline.