John laughed harshly. "My voice is all right. Not so dashed cool as yours. Read it!"
Spence took the sheet held out to him; but he had no wish to> read Desire's words to John.
"If it is a private letter—" he began.
"Oh, don't be a bigger fool than you have been! Unless," with sudden suspicion, "you've known all along? Perhaps you have. Even you could hardly have been so completely duped."
"If you will tell me what you are talking about—"
"Read it. It is plain enough."
The professor slowly opened the folded sheet. It was a longer note than the one she had left for him.
"Dear John," he read, "if I I'd known yesterday that I would leave so soon I could have said good-bye. But my decision was made suddenly. I think you must have seen how it is with Benis and Mary and I can't go without telling you that I knew about it from the first. I don't want you to blame Benis. He told me about it before we were married, and I took the risk with my eyes open. How could he, or I, have guessed that he had given up hope too soon?—and anyway, it wasn't in the bargain that I should love him.—It just happened.—He is desperately unhappy. Help him if you can.—Your affectionate Desire."
"My affectionate Desire!" mocked John, still in that high, strained voice which now was perilously near a sob. "That—that is what I was to her, a convenient friend! You—you had it all. And let it go, for the sake of that blond-haired, deer-eyed, fashion plate—"
"That's enough! You are not an hysterical girl. Sit down.... I can't understand this, John. I thought—"