"And even if I had, and you were merely afraid of being embarrassed, I couldn't very well drag you in without incriminating myself, now could I?" "I don't care to bandy words with you, young woman. Tell me--" "You needn't to please me, you know. And I shan't tell you anything." "Why--?" "My business," said Sally with all the insolence she knew how to infuse into her tone. "I think we covered that question rather completely last night--or rather this morning. I imagined it was settled. In fact, it was. I don't care to reopen it; but I will say this--or repeat it, if you prefer: I'm not going to permit you to interfere in my private affairs." "You refuse to tell me what you've written?" "For the last time--positively." "See here," Mrs. Standish ventured, after a baffled moment: "be reasonable. There's no sense in making me lose my temper." "I'm sure I don't wish you to." "Then tell me-" "No." "Must I threaten you?" Sally elevated supercilious eyebrows. "If you like." "I have a way to force you to obey me." "Oh?" There was an accent in this innocent syllable cunningly calculated to madden. "Very well. If you will have it. Do you recall a certain letter of introduction?" "Why--no." "That you brought me from Mrs. Cornwallis English." "What do you mean?" "Don't be stupid. You surely are not prepared to deny that you came to me last Wednesday, looking for work, with what purported to be a letter of recommendation from Mrs. English." "Please go on." "Well," Mrs. Standish announced triumphantly, "I kept that letter, of course, and now I've had occasion to look closely, I find it's a forgery." "Please!" Sally faltered. "I tell you, I have safe in my possession a letter recommending you to me and signed with the forged signature of Mrs. Cornwallis English. If necessary to protect myself, I shall not scruple to exhibit that letter." "Oh!" With a gasp of incredulity Sally sat down and stared at this impudent intrigante. "Now will you tell me what you've written? No. I won't trust you to tell me. Give me that envelope. I'll see for myself." "It isn't possible," Sally said, "that you would do anything so cruel and unjust and dishonest?" "Dishonest? I dare say you consider yourself a judge." "I can't believe it of you, Mrs. Standish." "That's your personal affair, of course. You've asked me not to interfere. . . ." She permitted Sally to think it over, meantime coming closer, holding out her hand with an effect of confident patience. "Surely you wouldn't show that forgery you've made up to Mrs. Gosnold?" "I don't know what you mean by 'forgery I've made up.' I shan't hesitate to show the forgery you brought me." "I guessed all along," Sally told her, "that you were not what you made yourself out to be, neither a good woman nor a kind one. But I never for a moment imagined you would stoop to such infamy." "Now that's settled, be good enough--" "But what makes you so afraid I'll tell Mrs. Gosnold about last night?"