She started, then crushed the letter to a ball, thrusting it into her bosom.
"Oh, Michael, you are insufferable!" she cried.
"What!" I exclaimed, astonished.
Her eyes filled and she sprang up.
"I know not whether to laugh or cry, so vexed am I!" she stammered, and called me booby and Paul Pry, drying her eyes the while her tongue upbraided me.
"I am not spying," said I, hotly; "don't pretend that scrawl was a love-letter, for I know it to be my own!"
"Ah—you did come spying!" she flashed out, stamping her foot furiously.
"Lord! was there ever such a spiteful maid!" I cried. "I came here to have a word with you concerning our journey this night. I care not a penny whistle for your love-letters. Can you not understand that?"
She turned somewhat pale and stood still. Her under-lip quivered between her teeth.
"Yes," she said, slowly, "I understand."