“Do you bring me good news?” she asked when she came into the room again. Anxiety looked through her smile, and she held her breath.
“We won’t have to make anything public that hasn’t already been made public.”
“The police won’t have to know about me?”
“No.”
She sighed happily and sat on the walnut settee. Her face relaxed and her body relaxed. She smiled up at him with admiring eyes. “However did you manage it?” she asked more in wonder than in curiosity.
“Most things in San Francisco can be bought, or taken.”
“And you won’t get into trouble? Do sit down.” She made room for him on the settee.
“I don’t mind a reasonable amount of trouble,” he said with not too much complacence.
He stood beside the fireplace and looked at her with eyes that studied, weighed, judged her without pretense that they were not studying, weighing, judging her. She flushed slightly under the frankness of his scrutiny, but she seemed more sure of herself than before, though a becoming shyness had not left her eyes. He stood there until it seemed plain that he meant to ignore her invitation to sit beside her, and then crossed to the settee.
“You aren’t,” he asked as he sat down, “exactly the sort of person you pretend to be, are you?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she said in her hushed voice, looking at him with puzzled eyes.