"Somebody wrote this letter about her," Alix stated, quietly.
"Who wrote you about her? What'd she say?" he demanded quickly.
"Just--I'll let you see it," she said. "I don't know who wrote it--it wasn't signed. Do you--do you know her? Do you know Hatty Woods?"
Martin smiled again, a superior yet ugly smile. It was the look of a man approached in his own realm, threatened in his infallible fastness.
"The less you have to do with girls like Hatty, the better!" he told her. "You've got plenty to do without mixing up with her!"
"She said--" Alix began. "The letter said--"
"Oh, sure, I know what she'd say!" Martin conceded, furious at Alix's interference, trembling with anger and resentment, and only anxious to close the conversation. "I know all about her and her kind. I think I know who wrote that letter, too. I guess Joe King's wife knows something about it. They're all alike! You give it to me to-morrow and I'll manage it. There won't be any more!"
"Martin," Alix whispered, gravely, "if you have given Cherry any cause--" Her voice fell, and there was a silence.
"There are a great many things in life that you don't understand, my dear sister-in-law," Martin said reluctantly, nettled, but still maintaining his air of lofty superiority, "a man's life is not a woman's--isn't intended to be! If this woman says she has anything on me--"
"She said that you went to a place called Bopps' Hotel in Sacramento--" Alix began, but he interrupted her.