There was strong impulse within him to question her, to learn then and there her own life story.
Yet, somehow, the reticence of the girl restrained him; he could not deliberately probe beneath the veil she kept lowered between them.
Until she chose to lift it herself voluntarily, he possessed no right to intrude.

The gentlemanly instincts of younger years held him silent, realizing clearly that whatever secret might dominate her life, it was hers to conceal just so long as she pleased.

Out of this swift struggle of repression he managed to say: "I appreciate your confidence, and mean to prove worthy.

Perhaps some day I can bring you the proofs." "I need none other than your own word." "Oh, but possibly you are too easily convinced; you believed in Hawley." She looked at him searchingly, her eyes glowing, her cheeks flushed.
"Yes," she said slowly, convincingly.

"I know I did; I--I was so anxious to be helped, but--but this is different." It was noon, the sun pitiless and hot above them, before they straggled within the partial shelter of the sand dunes, and sank wearily down to their meagre lunch.