He looked a second time at the handwriting on the envelope. Then he put it into his pocket. He withdrew the letter from his pocket again when, an hour or so later, he and Lorna were walking across the sands toward the path to the summit of the Clay Head. Ralph offered the letter to her with a little hesitation.
"Oh! For me?" Then she saw the postmark, "Charlestown, Mass.," and blushed.
"I think I recognize that handwriting, Lorna," Ralph said. "It is that of a girl named Cora Devine. I do not know why she should write to you unless you opened the correspondence. Is it so?" he added gravely.
"Ye-es," admitted Lorna.
"I do not just know what your desire was in writing to Miss Devine. If it was to learn what my interest in her is, I will tell you that. She was a Cambridge girl—a mill girl. Silly and showy. You know the kind. She got into trouble with—with one of the college fellows, and lost her job. Then her father was harsh to her. You know how many of that sort of people are, I suppose. They are strict with their children when it is too late."
"And who was the man, Ralph?" Lorna whispered.
"Well—I'm not much for telling tales out of school. But now that he has gone so far and is in jail, I may as well tell you that it was Degger."
"Oh! And he told me you were mixed up with Cora Devine, Ralph."
"I was." And Ralph smiled briefly. "He treated her like a dog. I had a chance to help her. I merely lent her money. She worked and paid me back—every cent. Then I managed to make her father reverse his decision, and Cora went back to live at home. They moved to Charlestown to escape gossip.
"Now, just lately, the old man has been ailing and they discovered that to save his life he must be operated on. Cora wrote to me and asked me for money to help. She says she will pay it back. I believe she will——