“In her letter. Has she written? Can I see her letter?”
“Her father took it.”
“But if she writes— When did she write?”
“It came this morning.”
“But where did it come from? You can tell—”
“She didn’t say. She said she was happy. She said love took one like a storm—”
“Curse that! Where is her letter? Let me see it. And as for this gentleman—”
She stared at me.
“You know who it is.”
“Willie!” she protested.