"Yes. I see that it is from Hamilton Stirling."
Doris flushed with vexation, and retreated to the bow-window. There she stood and read in leisurely style four pages of neat small handwriting. Getting to the end, she smiled, put the sheet into her pocket, and stood gazing out on the lawn. They were still in the study. Mrs. Winton waited two or three minutes, then said—
"I think you should allow me to see your letter, my dear. You cannot have secrets of that sort from me."
Doris faced round, her combative instincts awake.
"What sort?"
"I'm sure you understand what I mean."
Doris seemed embarrassed, though a smile lingered round her lips, and her eyes had a sparkle in them.
"It's—not meant to be shown."
"If you will tell me what it is about, I can judge."
The girl stood, slender and upright, against a dark maroon curtain.