Hendrie nodded.
"Sure," he said, his manner relaxing.
"You settled one hundred thousand dollars on me when we were married—all to myself, 'to squander as quickly as you like.' Those were your words. Well, I just wanted to show you that I am not one to squander money. I am investing some of it in a concern that is to show a handsome profit. The letter is from the man who is to handle the matter for me. Oh, dear, you've robbed me of all my fun. It is a shame. I—I'm disappointed."
Hendrie rose, smiling. The reaction from his moment of suspicion was intensely marked. He came over to her.
"May I see it?" he asked.
Monica risked all on her one final card.
"Oh, don't rob me of the last little bit of my secret," she cried. Then she promptly held the letter out. "Why, of course you can read it—if you want to."
She waited almost breathlessly for the verdict. If the suspense were prolonged she felt that she must collapse. A dreadful faintness was stealing over her, a faintness she was powerless to fight against. But the suspense was not prolonged, and the verdict came to her ears as though from afar off.
"Keep your little secret, Mon," she heard her husband say. "It's good to give surprises—when they're pleasant. Forgive me worrying you, but—but I think my love for you is a sort of madness—I——" She felt his great arms suddenly thrust about her and was thankful for their support.