You do not believe me. The venturous climber gazed for a moment at the assemblage beneath, to ascertain that he was not discovered; and, having satisfied himself in this particular, he stepped out more boldly. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. There was now no honest way of warning Taber that the net had been drawn. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. You are not unlike Pandora.
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