"
"I did not destroy your letter, Mona," was the embarrassed response.
"Then what did you do with it? Gave it to some one else to read--to some
other woman, perhaps."
He was really shocked and greatly pained. "Hush! You shall not say that
kind of thing, Mona. I've never had anything to do with any woman but my
wife since I married her."
"Then what did you do with the letter?"
"It's there," he said, pointing to the high desk with the green baize
top.
"And you say you have never read it?"
"Never."
She raised her head with dainty haughtiness. "Then if you have still the
same sense of honour that made you keep faith with the bookmakers--you
didn't run away from them!--read it now, here in my presence. Read it,
Shiel. I demand that you read it now. It is my right. You are in
honour bound--"
It was the only way. She dare not give him time to question, to suspect;
she must sweep him along to conviction. She was by no means sure that
there wasn't a flaw in the scheme somewhere, something that would betray
her; and she could hardly wait till it was over, till he had read the
letter.
In a moment he was again near her with the letter in his hand.
"Yes, that's it--that's the letter," she said, with wondering and
reproachful eyes.
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