He was surveying me with the old distrust.

In a moment I saw why.
"You are not open with me," he protested.

"Why should moments be hours to you previous to the instant when you stripped those pillows from the couch?
You are not a fanciful man, nor have you any cowardly instincts.
Why were you in such a turmoil going through a house where you could have expected to find nothing worse than some miserable sneak thief ?" This was a poser.

I had laid myself open to suspicion by one thoughtless admission, and what was worse, it was but the beginning in all probability of many other possible mistakes.

I had never taken the trouble to measure my words and the whole truth being impossible, I necessarily must make a slip now and then.