"I shouldn't think I understand you, Carnac," she said, over her
shoulder, as she arranged dishes on the sideboard. "I shouldn't think I
know you well. There's no Book of Revelations of your life except in your
face."
She suddenly turned full on him, and held his eyes. "Carnac, I think your
face looks honest. I've always thought so, and yet I think you're
something of a scamp, a rogue and a thief."
There was determination at her lips, through which, though only slightly
apart, her beautiful teeth, so straight, so regular, showed. "You don't
play fair. What's the good of having a friend if you don't tell your
friend your troubles? And you've been in trouble, Carnac, and you're
fighting it through alone. Is that wise? You ought to tell some bad man,
or some good woman--if they're both clever--what's vexing you.
"You see the bad clever man would probably think out something that would
have the same effect as the good clever woman. They never would think out
the same thing, but each 'd think out what would help you."
"But you've just said I'm a bad clever man. Why shouldn't I work out my
own trouble?"
"Oh, you're bad enough," she answered, "but you're not clever enough."
He smiled grimly.
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