Instead of answering directly, he questions me in his turn.
“Have you got the letter here?”
“Yes.”
“Sealed up?”
“Sealed up.”
He waits a little, considering what he is going to say next before he says it,
“Let me be sure that I know exactly what it is I have to decide,” he proceeds. “Suppose I insist on reading the letter—?”
There I interrupt him. I know it is my duty to restrain myself. But I cannot do my duty.
“My darling, don’t talk of reading the letter! Pray, pray spare yourself—”
He holds up his hand for silence.