Mrs. Billington leaned back in her chair, and fanned herself with her handkerchief.
“Oh, Mr. Hatterly!” she cried.
Mr. Hatterly leaned forward and captured one of Mrs. Billington’s hands, while she covered her eyes with the other.
“Call me Jack,” he said.
“I—I’m afraid I shall have to,” sobbed Mrs. Billington.
Miss Billington (as before, grimly).—“Mamie Jackson’s mother won’t; I know that!”
“And then,” Mr. Hatterly continued, “she said to me, ‘Jack, I am glad of this fate. I can speak now as I never could have spoken before.’”
Miss Billington (as before, but highly charged with electricity).—“Now I want to know what she did say when she spoke.”
Mr. Hatterly’s clear and fluent voice continued to report the interesting conversation, while Mrs. Billington sobbed softly, and permitted her kind old hand to be fondled.
“‘Jack,’ she said,” Mr. Hatterly went on, “‘life might have separated us, but death unites us.’”