"It smells horribly," she exclaimed, dropping it on the floor, "it smells of hospitals—disinfectants." But she stooped and picked it up again.
"It is from Cairness," said Landor, watching her narrowly. Her hand shook, and he saw it.
"From Cairness?" she faltered, looking up at him with frightened eyes; "when did it come?" Her voice was as unsteady as her hands. She tore it open and began to read it there before him. He stood and watched her lips quiver and grow gray and fall helplessly open. If she had been under physical torture, she could have kept them pressed together, but not now.
"Where did you—" she began; but her voice failed, and she had to begin again. "Where did you get this?"
He told her, and she held it out to him. He started to take it, then pushed it away.
She put down her work and rose slowly to her feet before him. She could be very regal sometimes. Brewster knew it, and Cairness guessed it; but it was the first time it had come within Landor's experience, and he was a little awed.
"I wish you to read it, John," she said quietly.
He hesitated still. "I don't doubt you," he told her.
"You do doubt me. If you did not, it would never occur to you to deny it. You doubt me now, and you will doubt me still more if you don't read it. In justice to me you must."
It was very short, but he held it a long time before he gave it back.