I'd swear to that." Good Indian had been fiddling with his hat and staring hard at a pile of old ties just outside the window.

He raised his head, and regarded her steadily.

It was beginning to occur to him that there was a good deal to this Miss Georgie, under that offhand, breezy exterior.

He felt himself drawn to her as a person whom he could trust implicitly.
"You're right as far as I'm concerned," he owned, with his queer, inscrutable smile.

"I think you're also right about him.