did you mail it?"

For a sixteenth of a second she hesitated. Should she go on lying, or
stop right now and confess everything? She dare not. She had not the
courage. Positively, decisively, almost indignantly, she answered:

"Yes--of course. Why do you ask?"

He eyed her keenly, trying to penetrate her thoughts.

"You're quite sure?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure." With an effrontery that surprised herself, she
added: "I wouldn't say so if I wasn't."

"And you didn't know Madison was coming East until you read about it in
that newspaper?"

"No--no--I didn't know."

"Have you heard from him?"

Again an opportunity presented itself to tell the truth, and again her
courage failed her.

"No--no--I haven't heard from him." Peevishly, she exclaimed: "Don't
talk to me about this thing. Why can't you leave me alone? I'm
miserable enough, as it is."

She walked away, with the idea of leaving the room, but quickly he
intercepted her. Sternly, he said:

"But I've got to talk to you. Laura, you're lying to me."

"What!"

She made a valiant effort to seem angry, but Brockton was too old a
bird to be deceived. Raising his voice in anger he exclaimed:

"You're lying to me, and you've been lying to me all along! Like a fool
I've trusted you. Show me that telegram!"

"No," she said defiantly.

She retreated into a far corner. He followed her.

"Show me that telegram!" he commanded.

"You've no right to ask me," she exclaimed hotly.

Before he could prevent it, she had torn the telegram in half and run
to the window. Before she could throw the pieces out, he had caught her
by the arm. Livid with rage, he almost shouted:

"Are you going to make me take it away from you? I've never laid my
hands on you yet."

"It's my business!" she cried in desperation.

"Yes, and it's mine!" he retorted, trying to seize the fragments.

Her face flushed from the struggle, now furiously angry, she fought him
with all her strength. They battled all over the room. Finally he
backed her against the dresser, and she was powerless to resist
further. He put out his hand to seize the torn pieces of the telegram,
which she had stuffed inside her waist.

"That telegram's from Madison," he cried hotly. "Give it here!"

"No!" she exclaimed, white as death, and still defiant.

"I'm going to find out where I stand," he cried. "Give me that
telegram, or I'll take it away from you."

"No!"

"Come on!" he said savagely, his teeth clenched,