She smiled at the words, and, showing them to Hankes, said, “It is most unfortunate, sir, that I should have seen the other letter. I could so readily have yielded myself up to all this flattery, which, even in its hollowness, has a certain charm.”
“I am certain Miss Kellett has too much good sense—too much knowledge of life—too much generosity, besides—”
“Pray, sir, let me stop you, or the catalogue of my perfections may become puzzling, not to say that I need all the good gifts with which you would endow me to aid me to a right judgment here. I wish I knew what to do.”
“Can you doubt it?”
“If the road be so clear, will you not point it out?”
“Write to Mr. Dunn. Well, let me write to him. I will inform him how this mischance occurred. I will tell him that you had read and re-read his letter before discovering the mistake of the address; that, consequently, you are now—so far as this great enterprise is concerned—one of ourselves; that, although you scorn to take advantage of a circumstance thus accidentally revealed, yet that, as chance has put you in possession of certain facts, that—-that, in short—”
“That, in short, I ought to profit by my good fortune,” said she, calmly, finishing the phrase for him.
“Unquestionably,” chimed in Hankes, quickly; “and, what's more, demand very high terms too. Dunn is a practical man,” added he, in a lower and more confidential tone; “nobody knows better when liberality is the best policy.”
“So that this is a case for a high price?” asked she, in the same calm tone.
“I 'd make it so if I were in your place. I 'd certainly say a 'high figure,' Miss Keliett.”