"You may regret that you have acted in this generous manner," said the girl. "What if you find that all your faith has been misplaced—that I am not worthy of the trust—"
"Really, there is nothing to be gained by saying such things," interposed Lowell. "As I told you, I am forgetting that the letter ever existed."
"Do you know," she said, "I wish this letter could have come back to me from any one but you?"
"Why?"
"Because, coming as it has, I am more or less constrained to act as fairly as you believe I shall act."
"You might give it back to Talpers and start in on any sort of a deal you chose."
"Impossible! For fear Talpers may get it, here is what I shall do to the letter."
Here Helen tore it in small pieces and tossed them high in the air, the breeze carrying them about the yard like snow.
"In which event," laughed Lowell, "it seems that I win, and my faith in you is to be justified."
"I wish I could assure you of as much," answered Helen sadly. "But if it happens that your trust is not justified, I hope you will not think too harshly of me."