"Is that just feminine intuition?"
"No. I am not very feminine and I have no intuition. But I have never known anyone-man or woman-with that colour of eye who wasn't. That opaque dark blue, like a very faded navy-it's infallible."
Robert smiled at her indulgently. She was very feminine after all.
"And don't feel superior because it happens not to be lawyers' logic," she added. "Have a look round at your own friends, and see."
Before he could stop himself he thought of Gerald Blunt, the Milford scandal. Assuredly Gerald had slate-blue eyes. So had Arthur Wallis, the potman at The White Hart, who was paying three different monetary levies weekly. So had— Damn the woman, she had no right to make a silly generalisation like that and be right about it.
"It is fascinating to speculate on what she really did during that month," Marion said. "It affords me intense satisfaction that someone beat her black and blue. At least there is one person in this world who has arrived at a correct estimate of her. I hope I meet him someday, so that I may shake his hand."
"Him?"
"With those eyes it is bound to be a 'him'."
"Well," Robert said, preparing to go, "I doubt very much whether Grant has a case that he will want to present in court. It would be the girl's word against yours, with no other backing on either side. Against you would be her statement; so detailed, so circumstantial. Against her would be the inherent unlikeliness of the story. I don't think he could hope to get a verdict."
"But the thing is there, whether he brings it into court or not. And not only in the files of Scotland Yard. Sooner or later a thing like that begins to be whispered about. It would be no comfort to us not to have the thing cleared up."