She listened to me in her usual manner, as if my speech were full of reference to things she had never heard of, and I felt particularly like the reporter of a newspaper who forces his way into a house of mourning. This was especially the case when after a moment she said, 'There was a gentleman who some time ago wrote to her in very much those words. He also wanted her papers.'
'And did she answer him?' I asked, rather ashamed of myself for not having her rectitude.
'Only when he had written two or three times. He made her very angry.'
'And what did she say?'
'She said he was a devil,' Miss Tita replied, simply.
'She used that expression in her letter?'
'Oh no; she said it to me. She made me write to him.'
'And what did you say?'
'I told him there were no papers at all.'
'Ah, poor gentleman!' I exclaimed.
'I knew there were, but I wrote what she bade me.'
'Of course you had to do that. But I hope I shall not pass for a devil.'
'It will depend upon what you ask me to do for you,' said Miss Tita, smiling.
'Oh, if there is a chance of your thinking so my affair is in a bad way! I sha'n't ask you to steal for me, nor even to fib—for you can't fib, unless on paper. But the principal thing is this—to prevent her from destroying the papers.'
'Why, I have no control of her,' said Miss Tita. 'It's she who controls me.'
