she said to Cleggett:

"It is no good for you to deny that you think I'm a horridly
unconventional sort of person!"

Cleggett made a polite, deprecatory gesture.

"Yes, yes, you do," she said, decidedly. "And, really, I am! I
am impulsive! I am TOO impulsive!" She raised the cup to her
lips, drank, and looked off towards the western horizon, which
the sun was beginning to paint ruddily; she mused, murmuring as
if to herself: "Sir Archibald always thought I was too
impulsive, dear man."

After a meditative pause she said, leaning her elbows on the
table and gazing searchingly into Cleggett's eyes:

"I am going to trust you. I am going to reward your kindness by
telling you a portion of my strange story. I am going to depend
upon you to understand it."

Cleggett bowed and murmured his gratitude at the compliment.
Then he said:

"You could trust me with------" But he stopped. He did not wish
to be premature.

"With my life. I could trust you with my life," finished the
lady, gravely. "I know that. I believe that. I feel it,
somehow. It is because I do feel it that I tell you----" She