“Have you read this letter?” She flashed an indignant look at him.
“I wish you would, then.”
“It is not my letter. I don't know what's in it, and I don't care to know.”
“Do you know what your father was doing in the ditch last night?”
“Helping you to mend it, at the risk of his life, because you made him,” Nancy answered quickly.
“Helping to mend a hole he made himself, so there would be a nice little break in the morning.”
The subject rested there, till Travis, forced to take the defensive, asked:—
“Do you believe me?”
“Believe what?”
“What I have just told you about your father?”