in that strange sing-song voice, "just read that letter."
He pulled a worn, creased sheet from an inner pocket and thrust it at Caroline.
"It's typewritten," he added, "it's easy enough to see if I'm lying. Just read it out."
Caroline glanced at the engraved letter-heading and began to read in her careful, childish voice:
My Dear Mr. Williston:
It is with great pleasure that I have to announce the fact that your story, "The Renewal," has been selected by the judges as most worthy of the thousand-dollar prize offered by us.
The woman snatched the paper from her hand.
"The idea!" she cried, "let the child alone, Mr. Williston! Don't you see she's lost?"
The man dropped like a stone on the table.
"Lost!" he whispered, "lost! Oh, that dreadful word! Yes, she's lost. Poor little Lou. It's all over."
The woman drew Caroline back into the sitting room.
