Darrow’s sunken face was suffused by his rare smile. “Oh, well, he’ll pull it off then!” he said.
Mrs. Peyton rose with a distracted sigh. “I half hope he won’t, for such a motive,” she exclaimed.
“The motive won’t show in his work,” said Darrow. He added, after a pause probably devoted to the search for the right word: “He seems to think a great deal of her.”
Mrs. Peyton fixed him thoughtfully. “I wish I knew what you think of her.”
“Why, I never saw her before.”
“No; but you talked with her to-day. You’ve formed an opinion: I think you came here on purpose.”
He chuckled joyously at her discernment: she had always seemed to him gifted with supernatural insight. “Well, I did want to see her,” he owned.
“And what do you think?”
He took a few vague steps and then halted before Mrs. Peyton. “I think,” he said, smiling, “that she likes to be helped first, and to have everything on her plate at once.”