Phyllis shuddered and her face went white.
“Couldn’t you forget in time?” she said, bravely struggling to speak steadily.
“Never! Why, Phyllis, that letter is enough to condemn me—only I didn’t write it.”
“Didn’t you, really, Phil?”
The girl leaned forward, and looked into his eyes so earnestly that Barry recoiled in amazement. Did she suspect him? Phyllis!
“Don’t!” he cried out, “don’t look as if you thought me guilty! You, of all people!”
“Oh, I don’t,” she said, quickly, “but I thought you might have written the letter, meaning something else. The fact of your writing it doesn’t make you the criminal.”
“But I didn’t. Listen, Phyllis—I love you—oh, sweetheart, how I love you! but I’ve resolved not to ask you for love, until I can offer you an unstained name——”
“Your name isn’t stained! I won’t have you say such things!”
Her sweet smile was encouraging, but Barry shook his head: