he confessed, "but leave the pulling of that charge to me. If I prove mistaken in the expectations I have given you—or if anything else out of the ordinary occurs—communicate with me at once. We understand each other, I am sure, perfectly."
Marjorie nodded again; she recognized that he wished to end their interview, but whereas, before entering this room, she could not have dreamt of wishing to prolong her talk with Rinderfeld, now she would stay. Not because she failed to understand or because she was curious as to what was the other charge of Mr. Stanway's which Rinderfeld planned to pull. She had thought all she could about the threat of Stanway; suddenly it had sunk to secondary importance, and what overwhelmed her was that which had caused her to cry to Doctor Grantham yesterday morning; why had her father done what he did?
Doctor Grantham had avoided answering her; if he himself understood, he would not tell; and now Marjorie doubted the fullness of the doctor's comprehension. She had not even put the question to Billy; and now she thoroughly realized why she had not; for Billy, though a man, was almost as unequipped with experience in such affairs as she. But here was a man with experience beyond any other whom she might meet and who, where he might have been personal and unpleasant, had preserved perfectly the professional throughout this difficult conversation with her. As she thought back upon it, she was amazed at how he had got through it without personal offensiveness and yet imparted to her what he had; she felt she could ask him anything and he could keep it impersonal; and she felt that, when he answered, he could tell her the truth.
