I never saw any one so still. You wouldn’t have known she was alive except for her eyes which moved after them, moved and moved, until the pair disappeared behind the rose-covered trellis that hid the courts. Then she let out a sound, a smothered ejaculation that you couldn’t spell with letters; but you didn’t need to, it said more than printed pages. Rage was in it and pain and love. They were in her face, too, stamped and cut into it. I wouldn’t have known it for hers, it was all marred and tragic, a pitiful, dreadful face. She looked blankly at the letters in her hand, at first as if she didn’t know what they were, then crumpled them, threw them on the ground and made a run for the balcony. She was almost there, I craning my neck to keep her in sight, when she stopped, wheeled around, went back to the scattered papers and picked them up. "Oh, bread and butter," I thought, "bread and butter! Aren’t you cursing it now?" Bad as I believed her to be I couldn’t but be sorry for her, for I’ve been in that position myself. Take it from me, licking the hand that feeds you is a job that comes hard to the worst of us. She pressed out the letters, smoothed away the creases slow and careful and came back to the balcony. Just before she disappeared under it she stopped and lifted her face, the eyes closed, the teeth pressed on her under lip. It quivered like a child’s on the brink of tears, but she wasn’t crying—fighting, I’d say, against something deeper than tears. I couldn’t bear to look at it and shut my own eyes; when I opened them she was gone. You didn’t need to tell me any more after that. She was in love with Ferguson, not Price; she was in love and straining every nerve to hide it; she was in love so she was jealous of Mrs. Price—and I’d bet a hat she was the kind who could love fierce and hard. I had to get this into the office and the next day asked for time off from Mrs. Janney and went in. I found them different to what they had been on my first visit, taking it serious like they were warming to it. I’d hardly sat down before I heard the reason. O’Malley had been busy and turned up enough evidence to make them sure that Chapman Price and Miss Maitland were in deep in some sort of plot or conspiracy.