Patricia’s gaze fell quietly upon the floor where the bills and the package still lay in disordered confusion.
“And the letters—you never even read them?”
“Oh, Patty,” said her husband, “I didn’t want to read ’em.”
“Can you ever forgive me, Mort?” She broke away from him, bent to the floor, picked up the package, and broke the seal.
“But you shall read them, Mort,” she cried, her face flaming, “every last silly one of them.”
But Crabb’s hands closed over hers and took the package gently from her. His only answer was to throw the papers into the fire.
“Oh, Mort,” she murmured, horrified, “what have you done—you might believe anything of me now.”
“I shall,” he chuckled, “that’s your penance.”
“Please, Mort—there’s time yet—just read a few——”
Crabb poked vigorously at the fire.