"No, and I never want to. They are yours."
"But I don't want to see them either. You do not know their contents?"
"No; only that there is a marriage certificate among them and a paper or two for you." I noticed he avoided mentioning my mother's name.
"Gordon—" I called him so for the first time, and was rewarded with a kiss, after which intermezzo, I finished what I had to say:
"—You say let the past bury its dead; so long as those papers exist, it will, in a way, live. I would like to know that they do not exist."
"You are sure you do not care to know your parentage?"
"No. Why should I? What is that to me? It is enough that I am to be your wife—and what my mother said, or did not say, could not influence me now. She never could have anticipated this. Besides, there might be some mention by her of my parentage."
"You express my own thought, my own desire, Marcia. Shall we ask John to destroy them?"
"Yes, and the sooner the better."
He drew a long breath of relief.