"I have no such letters."
"Did you send them to me, Viva?"
"No."
"What did you do with them?"
She hesitates, and colors painfully; then seeks to parry.
"How do you know I ever saw any letters?
"Because nothing less could explain your action; nor does this justify it. Still, I am not here to blame you. I want to get at the truth. What did you do with them?"
"They—went back."
"When? Before or after you got my letter?"
No answer for a moment, then: