Ransom, turning from the register with impressive deliberation: “Miss Reed, may I ask how you came to know that his name was Gummidge, or Grimmidge, or whatever I called him?”
She: “Oh, dearest, I can’t tell you! Or—yes, I had better.” Impulsively: “I will judge you by myself. I could forgive you anything!”
He, doubtfully: “Oh, could you?”
She: “Everything! I had—I had better make a clean breast of it. Yes, I had. Though I don’t like to. I—I listened!”
He: “Listened?”
She: “Through the register to—to—what—you—were saying before you—came in here.” Her head droops.
He: “Then you heard everything?”
She: “Kill me, but don’t look so at me! It was accidental at first—indeed it was; and then I recognized your voice; and then I knew you were talking about me; and I had so much at stake; and I did love you so dearly! You will forgive me, darling? It wasn’t as if I were listening with any bad motive.”
He, taking her in his arms: “Forgive you? Of course I do. But you must change this room at once, Ethel; you see you hear everything on the other side, too.”
She: “Oh, not if you whisper on this. You couldn’t hear us?” At a dubious expression of his: “You didn’t hear us? If you did, I can never forgive you!”