"You knew at once that it was a forgery?"
"I knew at once. I never doubted for an instant."
She sighed; then settled back into the pillow with a little shudder.
"This town," she said; "the things they do. Oh! to get away from it, to get away!"
"And we will!" he cried eagerly. "That's what we need, both of us--a holiday. I've been thinking it over. We're both tired. When this Jubilee is over we'll go abroad--Italy, Greece. We'll have a second honeymoon. Oh, Amy, we'll begin life again. I've been much to blame--much to blame. Give me that letter. I'll destroy it. I know my enemy, but I'll not think of him or of any one but our two selves. I'll be good to you now if you'll let me."
She gave him the letter.
"Look at it before you tear it up," she said, staring at him as though she would not miss any change in his features. "You're sure that it is a forgery?"
"Why, of course."
"It's nothing like my handwriting?"
"Nothing at all."