"Who is that lady?" she asked. "The sister of my dearest masculine friend." "Why does she write to you?" "For the same reason as the other girl, to give me good advice." She had to ask the next question. "Is there no love affair between you?" "Not the slightest. I did not think she would even condescend to write a line." Miss May drew a long breath, and then, as if ashamed of the interest she had shown, buried her face in the newspaper. "If you have finished with your cross-questionings," I remarked, "I will take a hand. Who are your letters from?" She clung to the envelopes as if she feared I would try to wrest them from her. "A friend," she answered, frigidly. "Two friends, at least. One is directed in the handwriting of a man. Now, Marjorie, I am not going to permit that sort of thing. I draw the line at male correspondents while you are travelling with me." Hesitating an instant she laid the envelope of which I spoke in my lap. "Read it," she said, looking me full in the eyes. "Not unless you wish me to," I answered. "I do wish it." "Really?" "Yes." "I must refuse to oblige you, for the first time, and I hope the last. I would not read that letter, under any circumstances," I replied. "Then I will read it to you," said Miss May, and she read as follows: Dear Marjorie:--I hope you are well and happy in that far-off land, with the gentleman who has engaged you as secretary, and that you have had no cause to regret accepting his offer. I have no great fears for you, believing that a wise girl will so conduct herself as to disarm the most persistent man, if temptation comes. If Mr. Camwell is all you believed him when last I saw you, your journey must be a continuous delight. If he proves the contrary I shall be sorry, for he can make your path a miserable one, but my confidence in you will be unshaken. The other girls all send love and best wishes. I shall look anxiously for the first letter from you. Mr. Barnard, the cashier, has promised to address my envelope and put on the right stamp. Your Friend, HELEN. I glanced at the writing, which was certainly that of a woman, and again at the envelope, quite as surely in the penmanship of a man. "It is from a girl who used to write in the same office as I," said Miss May. "Now you must hear the other one." But this I absolutely refused to do. She was putting me in a position I did not covet. I said I had some letters to write and would go to my room for awhile. Miss May did not press her point further, but said she would take the time to answer her own letters, if I did not need her.