"I cannot," she said after awhile.
"What?" asked the asthmatic old gentleman.
"Go to him I cannot! Must I?"
"Merciful Heavens!" groaned Uncle Henry, "do be reasonable! Of course you must unless you want him to be ruined."
"I must?" she repeated, adding as if for her own comfort, "No, I must not! I cannot force myself to have confidence in him, I cannot pretend what I do not feel. No, I must not!"
And she sprang up and ran through the room to the door, trembling with excitement.
"Oh, ta, ta!" The old man ran his hands through his hair. "Then stay here! Let your house and home go to ruin, and the husband to whom you have pledged your faith into the bargain."
"Yes, yes," she murmured, "you are right, but I cannot!"
And she grasped the little purse in her pocket which held that fatal letter.
It seemed as if this brought her back at once to herself. She grew quiet, she lay back on her lounge and rested her head on the cushion.