“Wrong? No, but what was it?”
“It was ‘Kitty’!”
“But the paper?”
“Don’t you remember?” she asked wonderingly. “Really?”
“Really!”
“Well——” She took something from the bosom of her dress and spread it out in the half-darkness. Then, “Listen,” she said: “‘Belle Harbour, Virginia, June the third. She’s coming; she’s almost in sight. I don’t quite know what I am writing. The situation grows intense. Will she——’”
“I remember!” he cried. “And you found that? And you knew, then, that——”
“Listen,” she said sternly. Again she bent over the paper. “‘Will she retreat or advance? I can see the white of her gown through the leaves. She is almost at the corner of the path. My courage is ebbing fast; if she delays much longer, I shall beat a disordered retreat myself. Now! She’s coming, coming, coming—she’s here——’”
“Kitty,” he cried, “you’re not reading! You couldn’t in this light.”