She took it with a deprecatory shrug of her shoulders, and read the few lines it contained with an absolutely expressionless face.
"Well?" asked Philip, after several moments had passed.
"Well?" she echoed, folding the letter with exactness and handing it back to him, but avoiding his eyes.
"Esther," he said, bending forward and forcing her to look at him, "Esther, the news contained in that letter is no news to you."
Still she did not reply; she had again taken up the strip of embroidery, and her fingers trembled a little as she drew out the needle. Mr. Tremain put out his hand and took it from her.
"My dear Esther," he said once more, in the same measured tones he had used from his first greeting of her, "you can at least answer a direct question. Did you know of this before?"
"Since you put it in that way—yes," she replied.
"For how long—all the time?"
"Yes, all the time."
"And you have kept it to yourself—why?"