“I cannot tell you much,” I hastened to reply; “but whatever knowledge is at my command is certainly yours. Is there anything in particular you wish to know?”
“Yes, how Mary is; whether she is well, and—and composed.”
“Your cousin’s health is good,” I returned; “but I fear I cannot say she is composed. She is greatly troubled about you.”
“You see her often, then?”
“I am assisting Mr. Harwell in preparing your uncle’s book for the press, and necessarily am there much of the time.”
“My uncle’s book!” The words came in a tone of low horror.
“Yes, Miss Leavenworth. It has been thought best to bring it before the world, and——”
“And Mary has set you at the task?”
“Yes.”
It seemed as if she could not escape from the horror which this caused. “How could she? Oh, how could she!”