In that measure, at least, he believed, she would
have respected the memory of the romance which she had so ruthlessly
blasted. This girl, with the daring and wistful eyes, was simply
fishing, so he guessed.
His guess was correct. Mendacity was not outside of Miss Forbes's easy
code when enlisted in a good cause, such as appeasing her own impish
curiosity. Never had Io so much as mentioned that quaint and lively
romance with which vague gossip had credited her, after her return from
the West; Esther Forbes had gathered it in, gossamer thread by gossamer
thread, and was now hoping to identify Banneker in its uncertain
pattern. Her little plan of startling him into some betrayal had proven
abortive. Not by so much as the quiver of a muscle or the minutest
shifting of an eye had he given sign. Still convinced that he was the
mysterious knight of the desert, she was moved to admiration for his
self-command and to a sub-thrill of pleasurable fear as before an
unknown and formidable species. The man who had transformed
self-controlled and invincible Io Welland into the creature of moods and
nerves and revulsions which she had been for the fortnight preceding her
marriage, must be something out of the ordinary. Instinct of womankind
told Miss Forbes that this and no other was the type of man to work such
a miracle.
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