He glanced at the letter, lit a match and set fire to it and dropped the ashes into the grate.
"Look at him, Kitty, look at him," she cried triumphantly.
"What was in that letter?"
"Nothing that matters."
"Who wrote it?"
"Nobody who matters in the very least."
"Was it Mr. Marston? Tell me."
"No."
"He wouldn't," said Kitty thoughtfully. "It's women who write letters. It must have been Grace Keating. She hates me."
"I know she hates you. Do you see now why Kitty's giving you up?"