Here was a
world, here were people of whom Mona Crozier had never dreamed. They
were so much of an antique time--far behind the time that her old land
represented; not a new world, but the oldest world of all. She began to
understand the girl also, and her face took on a comprehending look, as
with eyes like bronze suns Kitty continued:
"So, though it was wrong--wicked--in one way, I read the letter, to do
some good by it, if it could be done. If I hadn't read it you wouldn't
be here. Was it worth while?"
At that moment there was a knock at the outer door of the other room, or,
rather, on the lintel of it. Mona started. Suppose it was her husband
--that was her thought.
Kitty read the look. "No, it isn't Mr. Crozier. It's the Young Doctor.
I know his knock. Will you come and see him?"
The wife was trembling, she was very pale, her eyes were rather staring,
but she fought to control herself. It was evident that Kitty expected
her to do so. It was also quite certain that Kitty meant to settle
things now, in so far as it could be done.
"He knows as much as you do?" asked Mrs. Crozier.
"No, the Young Doctor hasn't read the letter and I haven't told him
what's in it; but he knows that I read it, and what he doesn't know he
guesses.
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