"But it's doing you good, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes, I daresay it is in that way."
She added, after a pause: "When you get back to the lounge you'll wonder where you put your half-written letter."
"What do you mean?" He suddenly felt in his inside coat-pocket. "Why—where is it? I thought I put it in my pocket. Who's got it? Have you?"
"Yes. You thought you put it in your pocket, I know. But you didn't. You left it on the writing table and I picked it up when you weren't looking."
"Then you have got it?"
"Yes, I have got it."
He went red with rage. "Helen, I don't want to make a scene in front of the servants, but I insist on you giving up to me that letter. You've absolutely no right to it, and I demand that you give it me immediately."
"You shall have it after I've read it."
"Good God, Helen, don't play the fool with me! I want it now, this minute! Understand, I mean it! I want it now!"