I wish she and me together were lying in our graves."
"But"--I moistened my lips and spoke slowly--"she may have gone to marry."
"If that was so! I've prayed to God it might be so, Willie. I've prayed that he'd take pity on her--him, I mean, she's with."
I jerked out: "Who's that?"
"In her letter, she said he was a gentleman. She did say he was a gentleman."
"In her letter. Has she written? Can I see her letter?"
"Her father took it."
"But if she writes-- When did she write?"
"It came this morning."
"But where did it come from? You can tell--"
"She didn't say. She said she was happy. She said love took one like a storm--"
"Curse that! Where is her letter? Let me see it. And as for this gentleman--"
She stared at me.
"You know who it is."
"Willie!" she protested.
"You know who it is, whether she said or not?" Her eyes made a mute unconfident denial.
"Young Verrall?"
She made no answer. "All I could do for you, Willie," she began presently.
