Jenny.
And I've read his letters, too—because I wanted to know what he was doing. I steamed one open, and he saw it, and he never said a word.
John.
Good heavens, why did you do it?
Jenny.
Because I can't live unless I know the truth. I thought it was Mrs. Murray's handwriting.
John.
Was it from her?
Jenny.
No. It was a receipt from the coal merchant. I could see how he despised me when he looked at the envelope—I didn't stick it down again very well. And I saw him smile when he found it was only a receipt.