"Bring her often—often!" she said, turning away her face.
A knock at the door, and the black hand of Josephus extending a letter.
She knew at once whose letter it was; no need to look! She clutched it, hiding it against her dress. Betty, clinging to her skirts, indignant at her change of mood, clamored for recognition. She bent over, kissed her swiftly, laughed. Then she was alone.
She looked at the letter, but she did not open it. Instead, she placed it on a table, locked the doors, and clutching her hands until the nails cut in, began to pace the floor.
If he had dared—to seek another meeting!
She felt a hot indignant anger wrapping her whole body. She would show him her scorn! At one moment she was on the point of tearing up the letter unread, at the next of sending it back contemptuously. At the end she opened it and read:
"Dear Miss Baxter:
"I was out of my head.... I should have known my limitations.... I didn't. I am very sorry, and I only am to blame. Some later day I want to be your good friend.... Do you understand?
"With great respect,
"L. M."
When she had read this unexpected renunciation, she forgot all her anger, all her resistance.
"He will never see me again!" she said, with a sob, pressing the letter convulsively against her tears.
She needed no second reading to understand that. She put the crumpled sheet into her waist, striking her temples with her little fists as she had once struck him, repeating: