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I thought I could have trusted you! Was you a murderer in your heart all the time? Go away! I've no con fidence in you! No co-on fidence in you, Bartholomew Bree!" It is impossible to write or print the words so as to suggest their grieved abandonment of faith, their depth of loving condemnation. If Bartholomew had been a human being! But he was not; he was only a great gray cat.
But if she was to be the practical woman she had intended to show herself, business must be carried on, introductions or none, and she ultimately acquired con- fidence enough to speak and reply boldly to men merely known to her by hearsay.
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