“It’s not Wully’s!”
Bewildered she asked;
“Whose is it?”
“I can’t tell you that. It’s not his.”
“And you let us think it was!”
“Oh, mother, I couldn’t help it! Oh, I didn’t know what to do! And he just did whatever he wanted to. He has everything his own way! He wouldn’t let me tell you! Every day I’ve told him he ought to tell you. But he wouldn’t, mother. And if he finds out I have told you, he might even— Oh, I don’t know what he’ll do!” She sobbed passionately.
Isobel put out her hand and began stroking her hair.
“He’ll never find it out from me! Oh, I canna sense it!” she cried. “What ever made him do it?”
“He did it to help me, mother! To help me out! Oh, I wanted him to tell you before we were married. It just seemed as if I couldn’t marry him without telling you. But he didn’t want anyone to know he wasn’t—like me! He says——”
“What does he say, Chirstie?”