He knew that she was fighting with herself, that the nervously twitching fingers at her breast told more than her lips had confessed.

He stepped nearer to her and held out a hand, and when he spoke his voice was vibrant with the thing that made men respect him and women have faith in him.
"Tell me--what you started to say," he entreated quietly.

"This is your hiding-place, and you thought--what?
I think that I can guess.

You thought that I was some one else, whom you have reason to fear." She did not answer.

It was as if she had not yet completely measured him.