The girl pulled the hat literally inside out in her eagerness; but her gloved fingers trembled so that the precious letter fluttered to the floor. We both stooped, but I was quicker. It was no attempt on my part to see the address; my act was one of common politeness. But I could not help seeing the name. It was my own!
"Give it to me!" she cried breathlessly.
I did so. I was not, at that particular moment, capable of doing anything else. I was too bewildered. My own name! She turned, hugging the hat, the legal documents and the letter, and hurried down the main stairs, I at her heels.
"Tell the driver my address; I can return alone."
"I can not permit that," I objected decidedly. "The driver is a stranger to us both. I insist on seeing you to the door; after that you may rest assured that I shall no longer inflict upon you my presence, odious as it doubtless is to you."
As she was already in the cab and could not get out without aid, I climbed in beside her and called the street and number to the driver.
"Legally the letter is mine; it is addressed to me, and had passed out of your keeping."
"You shall never, never have it!"—vehemently.
"It is not necessary that I should," I replied; "for I vaguely understand."