John read it; Mary followed his eyes, and the moment they reached the end, without giving him time to speak, she exclaimed, “There, you see I spoke the truth. I had sent him away. What does he say to you, John?”
“I never heard of him in my life before.”
“John! Then who is your letter from?”
He hesitated. He felt an impulse to imitate her candor, but prudence suggested that he should be sure of his ground first.
“Tell me all,” he said, sitting down. “Who is this man, and what has he to do with you?”
“Why don’t you show me his letter? I don’t know what he’s said about me.”
“What could he say about you?”
“Well he—he might say that—that I cared for him, John.”
“And do you?” demanded John, and his voice was anxious.
Duty demanded a falsehood; Mary did her very best to satisfy its imperious commands. It was no use.