“Doubtless your lawyer has it,” he suggested.
“No; I have it. It is in a steel box; I have the key hanging around my neck inside my clothes. I have never opened the box.”
“But why do you not open the box?” asked Lansing, smiling.
She hesitated; color crept into her cheeks. “I have waited,” she said; “I was alone; my father said—that—that—” She stammered; the rich flush deepened to her neck.
Lansing, completely nonplussed, sat watching the wonderful beauty of that young face.
“My father told me to open it only when I found an honest man in the world,” she said, slowly.
The undertone of pathos in her voice drove the smile from Lansing’s lips.
“Have you found the world so dishonest?” he asked, seriously.
“I don’t know; I came from Notre Dame de Sainte Croix last year. Mr. Munn was my guardian; … said he was; … I suppose he is.”
Lansing looked at her in sympathy.