“Yes,” she said, slowly fixing her eyes upon his, and tenderly stroking his hair. “But sometimes—sometimes I am afraid, Max—I—”
“Afraid!” he echoed. “Afraid of what?”
“That you cannot trust me.”
He started. Was it not the unconscious truth that she spoke? He had been doubting her all that afternoon.
“Cannot trust you!” he cried. “What do you mean? How very foolish!”
But she shook her head, and a slight sigh escaped her. She seemed to possess some vague intuition that he did not entirely accept her statement regarding Maud. Yet was it, after all, very surprising, having in view the fact that she had admitted that Maud had made confession. It was the truth regarding that admission on the part of the Doctor’s daughter that he was hoping to elicit.
“Marion,” he said presently, in a low, intense voice, “Marion, I love you. If I did not trust you, do you think my affection would be so strong for you as it is?”
She paused for a moment before replying.
“That all depends,” she said. “You might suspect me of double-dealing, and yet love me at the same time.”
“But I do not doubt you, darling,” he assured her, at the same time placing his arm around her slim waist and kissing her upon the lips. “I love you; surely you believe that?”