"I will not judge you, Dr. Fox," she said. "Possibly Mr. Kenyon may have deceived you for his own purposes. If you are really skilled in mental diseases you will soon perceive that I am as sane as you are yourself."
"When I make that discovery I will send you back to your husband," said the doctor with oily suavity.
"I shall never return to my husband," said Mrs. Kenyon coldly. "I only ask to be released. I hope your promise is made in good faith."
"Certainly it is; but, my dear madam, let me beg you to lay aside this prejudice against your husband, who sincerely regrets the necessity of your temporary seclusion from the world."
Mrs. Kenyon smiled bitterly.
"I understand Mr. Kenyon probably better than you do," she said. "We won't discuss him now. But if I am to remain here, even for a short time, I have a favor to ask."
"You may ask it, certainly," said the doctor, who did not, however, couple with the permission any promise to grant the request.
"Or, rather, I have two requests to make," said Mrs. Kenyon.
"Name them."
"The first is, to be supplied with pens, ink, and paper, that I may communicate with my friends."