The circumstances were peculiar, of course, but I have
every confidence in Doctor McMurdoch's efficiency. Since he is
satisfied, it would be mere impertinence on my part to question
his verdict."
Phil Abingdon repeated the weary sigh and turned her head aside,
glancing down to where with one small shoe she was restlessly
tapping the floor of the cab. They were both silent for some
moments.
"Don't you trust me?" she asked, suddenly. "Or don't you think I
am clever enough to share your confidence?"
As she spoke she looked at him challengingly, and he felt all the
force of personality which underlay her outward lightness of
manner.
"I both trust you and respect your intelligence," he answered,
quietly. "If I withhold anything from you, I am prompted by a
very different motive from the one you suggest."
"Then you are keeping something from me," she said, softly. "I
knew you were."
"Miss Abingdon," replied Harley, "when the worst trials of this
affair are over, I want to have a long talk with you. Until then,
won't you believe that I am acting for the best?"
But Phil Abingdon's glance was unrelenting.
"In your opinion it may be so, but you won't do me the honour of
consulting mine."
Harley had half anticipated this attitude, but had hoped that she
would not adopt it. She possessed in a high degree the feminine
art of provoking a quarrel. But he found much consolation in the
fact that she had thus shifted the discussion from the abstract
to the personal.
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