THE FELLOW: Genevieve Patterson.
THE GIRL: Yes, Genevieve Patterson—the girl you know—my best friend. Oh, can't you understand? Those things don't belong to me. They are—(She stops abruptly, bites her lips, clasps her hands. Then says, aside.) Oh, what am I doing? I mustn't allow Genevieve's reputation to be ruined. I might as well take the blame and brave it out myself. This situation is frightful. (She turns to him again.) I can't explain, but don't—oh, please don't think that I—that I—(She stops, looking as if she is about to cry.)
THE FELLOW: (Again looking at the articles and shaking his head.)
And you always looked like such a nice girl, too. Cigarettes—and—
(He opens up the letter.)
THE GIRL: (Suddenly springing to her feet.) You must not read that letter. It does not belong to me. You have no right to read that letter.
THE FELLOW: But you read the letter that didn't belong to me.
THE GIRL: It did belong to you.
THE FELLOW: It didn't!
THE GIRL: DID!
THE FELLOW: Didn't!
THE GIRL: (Running forward and trying to grab the letter, which he holds out of her reach.) I forbid you to read that letter. I swear to you, it is not mine.