hard voice
read out baldly, if only he would give up the plan in his head. But it
was the last sentence that bit into me:

"Oh, Dick, have some mercy! I know you hate me now, but have some
mercy; don't do what I'm afraid of. I'll give you all you
want--myself--everything--if only you'll let that be. Go away, as I
begged you, and I'll leave Dudley for you, and go too." And it was
signed, as I knew Paulette Brown had not meant to sign anything,
"Tatiana Paulina Valenka."

I never even wondered how she had meant to get it to Hutton, if she had
not supposed she burned it. Every drop of my blood boiled in me with the
determination that she should never pay Hutton's price with her lips
against his that she hated, and his cheek on her soft hair I had never
touched; all the gold Dudley Wilbraham could ever mine was not worth
that. But I kept a cold eye on Marcia. "A half-burnt letter--that
wasn't going to be sent--isn't anything but girl's nonsense," I swore
contemptuously.

"Isn't it? We'll see--when Dudley reads it!" Marcia looked like a devil
hunched up in her dressing gown, with her gums showing as she grinned.
"I told you she never meant to marry him. Now we'll see if he marries
her--when she writes letters like this!"

"I won't let you show it to Dudley!"

"You are like--everybody: cracked about a Paulette Brown!" Marcia
retorted; and if I had only known what the "everybody" was going to mean
I think I could have managed her, even then, by coming out with it. But
I didn't know, and I did the best I could.

"Marcia Wilbraham, if you dare to show that thing to Dudley, or so much
as speak of it, I'll pay you out,--so help me," I said; and if it was in
a voice no decent woman knows a man can use, I meant it to be. It scared
Marcia, anyhow, though heaven knew I didn't see how I could ever pay her
out, no matter what she did. She let go of the letter, which she had to,
for I had her by the wrist. I would have burnt it up, only I had no
match. Marcia leaned forward suddenly, electrically, and tapped the "Oh,
Dick" in the last sentence, that was the only name in the letter.

"Well, I'm damned," said she coolly. "Why, the thing's to you! Do you
mean you're going to run away with that--that girl?"

"No," I said furiously and then saw I was an ass, "I mean, not now!"

"Since I know about you," Marcia cut me off sweetly. But she stared at
me calculatingly. "H--m," said she, "I beg your pardon for mistaking
your N for a bi