Yet was it guilelessness?
He had never met guilelessness in the diplomatic game, save as a mask
for treachery and deceit. And yet this seemed the real thing. He wanted
to believe it. In fact, he did believe it; it was simply the habit of
his experience warning him to beware--and because it was a woman it
warned him all the more.... Yet he cast experience aside--and also the
fact that she was a woman--and accepted her story as truth. Maybe he
would regret it; maybe she was playing him; maybe she was laughing
behind her mask; maybe he was all kinds of a fool--nevertheless, he
would trust her. It was--
"I'm glad you have decided that I'm not a diplomat--and that you will
trust me," she broke in. "I'm just an ordinary woman, Mr. Harleston, just
a very ordinary woman."
He held out his hand. She took it instantly.
"A very extraordinary woman, you mean, dear lady," he said gravely. "In
some ways the most extraordinary that I have ever known."
"It's not in the line of diplomacy, I hope," she shrugged.
"Not the feminine line, I assure you; Madeline Spencer is typical of it,
and the top of her class--which means she is wonderfully clever,
inscrutable as fate, and without scruple or conscience. No, thank God,
you do not belong in the class of feminine diplomats!"
"Thank you, Mr.
Pages:
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136