“Give me that letter, Laura.”
“I’m very sorry, mamma; but——”
“Give it to me.”
“Very well; I shall have to write another.”
“Do you mean to defy me, Laura?”
Laura made no answer.
Mrs. Pocklington opened and read the letter.
“Dear Mr. Neston,” (it ran)—
“I want you to know that I do not believe a single word of what they are saying. I am very sorry for poor Mrs. Witt, and I think you have acted splendidly. Isn’t it charming weather? Riding in the park in the morning is a positive delight.