"I cannot answer that," she said.
His lips curled with disbelief, and her cheeks flushed a little.
"Can't you trust anybody?" she said.
"Why," she continued as he kept silent, "don't you think that if I had
intended, as you said once before, to cheat you, to take _anything_
that belongs to you, that I could have done so long ago? I had the
diagram; I could have kept the idol, the money, the ranch. What could
you have done; what could you do now? Don't you think it is about time
for you to realize that you are hurting no one but yourself by
harboring such black, dismal thoughts. Nobody is trying to cheat
you--except probably the Taggarts. Everybody here is trying their best
to be friendly to you, trying to aid in making those reforms which your
father mentioned. Dade likes you; Bob loves you. And even my
grandfather said the other day that you are not a bad fellow. You have
been making progress, more than I expected you to make. But you must
make more."
The mirth had died out of her eyes; she was deeply in earnest. Calumet
could see that, and the knowledge kept him silent, hushed the
half-formed sarcastic replies that were on his lips, made his
suspicions seem brutal, preposterous, ridiculous. There was much
feeling in her voice; he was astonished and awed at the change in her;
he had not seen her like this before.
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