"I am so ashamed—"
"Please don't consider it that way."
"But now that you know—you don't think—"
"My dear Miss Bannon!"
"But it must be so hard to credit! Even I. … Why, it's more than a year since this last happened. Of course, as a child, it was almost a habit; they had to watch me all the time. Once. … But that doesn't matter. I am so sorry."
"You really mustn't worry," Lanyard insisted. "It's all quite natural—such things do happen—are happening all the time—"
"But I don't want you—"
"I am nobody, Miss Bannon. Besides I shan't mention the matter to a soul. And if ever I am fortunate enough to meet you again, I shall have forgotten it completely—believe me."
There was convincing sincerity in his tone. The girl looked down, as though abashed.
"You are very good," she murmured, moving toward the door.
"I am very fortunate."
Her glance of surprise was question enough.
"To be able to treasure this much of your confidence," he explained with a tentative smile.
She was near the door; he opened it for her, but cautioned her with a gesture and a whispered word: "Wait. I'll make sure nobody's about."
He stepped noiselessly into the hall and paused an instant, looking right and left, listening.
