Barnes refrained from congratulating her. He realized how really serious an affair she had upon her hands.
“And you—you must tell your father this yourself?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, “and it’s like being ordered to kill him.”
She drew in a deep breath that was half a gasp.
Barnes thought a moment.
“The first thing I should do,” he advised, “would be to tear up the letter.”
“You mean—?”
“I should never let him see that.”
She hesitated a moment and then still half dazed tore it into little bits. She tossed the fragments to the ground. They were harried about the greensward by a light sunset breeze. The yellow cat began to play with them.
“Now,” he advised, “I shouldn’t tell your father anything.”