"Give it to me!" she cried breathlessly.
I did so. I was not, at that particular moment, capable of doing anything else. I was too bewildered. My own name! She turned, hugging the hat, the legal documents and the letter, and hurried down the main stairs, I at her heels.
"Tell the driver my address; I can return alone."
"I can not permit that," I objected decidedly. "The driver is a stranger to us both. I insist on seeing you to the door; after that you may rest assured that I shall no longer inflict upon you my presence, odious as it doubtless is to you."
As she was already in the cab and could not get out without aid, I climbed in beside her and called the street and number to the driver.
"Legally the letter is mine; it is addressed to me, and had passed out of your keeping."
"You shall never, never have it!"—vehemently.
"It is not necessary that I should," I replied; "for I vaguely understand."
I saw that it was all over. There was now no reason why I should not speak my mind fully.
"I can understand without reading. You realized that your note was cruel and unlike anything you had done, and your good heart compelled you to write an apology; but your pride got the better of you, and upon second thought you concluded to let the unmerited hurt go on."