He was plainly puzzled.
"I don't know what you mean."
"A letter came this morning—a lovely letter in a long envelope."
She took a paper out of a magazine which lay on the stone bench by her side. "Read that," she said.
He read and his face went perfectly white, so that it showed chalkily beneath his red hair.
"Mary," he said, "what have you done this for? You know I'm not going to let you."
"You haven't anything to do with it."
"But I have. It is ridiculous. You don't know what you are doing. You've never been tied to an office desk—you've never fought and struggled with the world."
