“I know you mistrust me,” he went on. “If I were in your place I certainly should do so. A thousand pities it is that I cannot tell you who I am. But—well—I tell you in confidence that I dare not!”
“Dare not! Of what are you afraid?” inquired Dorise. The man she had met under such romantic circumstances interested her keenly. He was Hugh’s go-between. Poor Hugh! She knew he was suffering severely in his loneliness, and his incapability to clear himself of the terrible stigma upon him.
“I’m afraid of several things,” replied the white cavalier. “The greatest fear I have is that you may not believe in me.”
“I do believe in you,” declared the girl.
“Excellent!” he replied enthusiastically. “Then let us get to business—pardon me for putting it so. But I am, after all, a business man. I am interested in a lot of different businesses, you see.”
“Of what character?”
“No, Miss Ranscomb. That is another point upon which I regret that I cannot satisfy your pardonable curiosity. Please allow your mind to rest upon the one main point—that I am acting in the interests of the man with—the man who is, I believe, your greatest and most intimate friend.”
“I understood that when we met in Nice.”
“Good! Now I understand that your mother, Lady Ranscomb, is much against your marriage with Hugh Henfrey. She has other views.”
“Really! Who told you that?”