“But this is a very different mood from that of a certain night at Mount Street.”
“I know, I know.” Violet spoke a little wildly. “I was very bitter then. Things seemed changed somehow.”
“You know that Guy Rossett has to be ‘removed,’ in obedience to the orders of our revered chief?”
“I know, I know.” Suddenly she burst into bitter sobbing. Presently she lifted her tear-stained face. “You think I am a very bad woman, don’t you? I am not really, only hard and embittered with my early life. If I could only find somebody who really cared for me!”
It was a clear invitation. Moreno took her hand in his; he could not disguise from himself that he was attracted. But, at the same time, he did not lose his head. Could he trust her—would she be useful for his purpose?
“Suppose that I said I cared?”
Violet sobbed afresh. “No, no, it is impossible. You would never believe in me, you could never trust me.”
And then Moreno leaned forward and spoke to her, very gravely.
“I think, before you leave, we must have a little conversation together. When it is finished, I will tell you whether I trust you or not.”