Titus folded the ‘copy’ and slid it into his case.
Then he struck a match and burned the ‘original’ up.
Blanche never turned.
As he put an arm about her—
“Which did you burn?” she said.
Titus laid his head against hers.
“I kept my love-letter,” he said.
His darling flung her arms round his neck.
Summer was in.