“This Indenture made this —— day of ——, Anno Domini 18—, Witnesseth: that William West, the grantor, for divers good and valuable considerations to him moving, has, and by these presents does give, grant, and convey”—
The fold in the deed hid the rest.
“She’s got to see you!” John Paul said angrily. “What’s the matter with her? Is she out of her senses? All I know is what Kate told me. She asked me to bring you the letter. She said Amy had broken her engagement. You could have knocked me over with a straw. She wouldn’t give any reasons. But I’m touched by this business. If a woman in my household suddenly forgets honor and common decency, I’m touched by it! Unless you’ve given her cause?”
He walked up and down, breathing hard, his hands thrust into his pockets, jingling his latchkeys for the mere relief of doing something. William West put the little note into his pocket.
“I’ve given her cause,” he said.
His senior warden stopped in front of him, and looked at him critically. “You’re lying to me. I know you! It’s a girl’s whim, and I’m touched by it, I tell you. She’s a member of my family. I shall see her (she wouldn’t see me before I started here), and straighten this business out. Kate is nearly dead with it. My wife looked like a ghost when she came and told me—and the wedding day after to-morrow! No; I’m going to straighten this thing out. What I want you to do is to tell me, man to man, what started it?”
“Amy is perfectly justified,” William West said dully. “I told her this morning that I had committed a forgery.”
“A—?” John Paul sat down, his mouth open, his plump hands on his knees, his eyes starting from his head.
“You are out of your mind!”
William West laughed shortly.