"I am a friend of yours," he said. "You know that; you've known it some time. My opinion of you is that you are a good little woman,--the right sort of a little woman,--and I have a great deal of confidence in you." "I hope so," said Bertha. She felt that as he gained warmth and color she lost them; she thought of the letter which lay on the mantel-piece within a few feet of him, and wished that it was not so near. There had been evil spoken of her, and he had heard it. She realized that, and knew that she was upon her defence, even while she had no knowledge of what she was to defend herself against. "I hope so," she said again, tremulously. "I hope so, indeed;" and her eyes met his with a helplessness more touching than any appeal she could have made. It so moved him that he could remain quiet no longer, but sprang to his feet and drew his hand from his pocket and rubbed it excitedly over his upright hair. "Damn it!" he broke forth, "let them say what they will,--let what will happen, I'll believe in you! Don't look at me like that; you are a good little woman, but you are in the wrong place. There are lies and intrigues going on about you, and you are too--too bright and pretty to be judged fairly by outsiders. You don't know what you are mixed up in; how should you! Who is to tell you? These fellows who dangle about and make fine speeches are too smooth-tongued, even when they know enough. I'll tell you. I never paid you compliments or made love to you, did I? I'm no good at that; but I'll tell you the truth, and give you a bit of good advice. People are beginning to talk, you see, and tell lies. They have brought their lies to me; I don't believe them, but others will. There are men and women who come to your house who will do you no good, and are more than likely to do you harm. They are a lot of intriguers and lobbyists. You don't want that set here. You want honest friends, and an innocent, respectable home for your children, and a name they won't be ashamed of. Send the whole set packing, and cut yourself loose from them." Bertha stood up also. She had forgotten the little work-basket, and still held it in her hands, suspended before her. "Will you tell me," she said, "what the lies were,--the lies you heard?" Perhaps she thought, with a hopeless pang, they were not lies at all; perhaps he had only heard what was the truth, that she had been told to try to please him, that his good-will might be gained to serve an end. Looked at from Richard's stand-point that had been a very innocent thing; looked at from his stand-point it might seem just what it had seemed to herself, even in the reckless, desperate moment when she had given way. He paused a moment, barely a moment, and then answered her.