I think you even thought I might be a party to the crime, that I had consented. . . . That did hurt me; but perhaps you couldn't have thought anything else–I don't know.'
Trent, who had not hitherto taken his eyes from her face, hung his head at the words. He did not raise it again as she continued. 'But really it was simple shock and distress that made me give way, and the memory of all the misery that mad suspicion had meant to me. And when I pulled myself together again you had gone.'
She rose and went to an escritoire beside the window, unlocked a drawer, and drew out a long, sealed envelope.
'This is the manuscript you left with me,' she said. 'I have read it through again and again. I have always wondered, as everybody does, at your cleverness in things of this kind.' A faintly mischievous smile flashed upon her face, and was gone. 'I thought it was splendid, Mr. Trent–I almost forgot that the story was my own, I was so interested. And I want to say now, while I have this in my hand, how much I thank you for your generous, chivalrous act in sacrificing this triumph of yours rather
