"Leave the little book until you come back," insisted Mrs. Dillingham, sweetly. "It will amuse me all day."
She held it to her breast with both hands, as if it were the sweetest treasure that had ever rested there.
"Will you take care of it?"
"Yes."
He seized her unresisting hand and kissed it.
"Between this time and dinner I shall be back. Then I must have it again," he said.
"Certainly."
Then the General retired, went to his house and found his carriage waiting, and, in less than an hour, was absorbed in raveling the snarled affairs connected with his recent disastrous speculation. The good nature engendered by his delightful interview with Mrs. Dillingham lasted all day, and helped him like a cordial.
The moment he was out of the house, and had placed himself beyond the possibility of immediate return, the lady called her servant, and told him that she should be at home to nobody during the day. No one was to be admitted but Mr. Belcher, on any errand whatsoever.
Then she went to her room, and looked the little book over at her leisure. There was no doubt about the business skill and method of the man who had made every entry. There was no doubt in her own mind that it was a private book, which no eye but that of its owner had ever seen, before it had been opened to her.