"But Durland doesn't know that we have proof that she took the pearls," she said, as one calmly able to make all smooth and easy. "No, Durland," said his mother, "I have not been able to tell you--the detectives would not let me until your uncle got back--that we have proof. Miss Exeter is not Miss Exeter at all--just an imposter. Oh, tell him, Anthony--tell him that she's--a common, everyday thief." "I can't do that," said Wood, "because I don't think so." "You mean," said his sister, as if now, indeed, a chasm had opened at her very feet, "that you have any doubt that she stole the pearls?" "I'm perfectly certain that she didn't," said Wood. Edna burst out at this into a wail of reproach and anger, ending with the not unnatural accusation that her brother must be in love with the woman too. "Yes, perhaps I am," said Anthony. The idea was new to him, and not repugnant; but he spoke more to annoy his sister than from any more serious motive; but as he spoke he saw that Pearl and Mr. Albertson were in the room and must have heard him, Pearl, however, was too much excited already to register any further excitement. She strode into the room as she strode into the board room of the Encyclopedia; and almost at once catching sight of her letter, still in Durland's hand, she made a grab for it; only Edna was quicker--or rather nearer--and succeeded in getting it first. Pearl turned to Anthony. "Mr. Wood," she said, "I want my letter--I won't have anyone read my letter. It's an outrage!" Mr. Albertson felt his moment had come. "Now look, girlie," he said, "we about have the goods on you. Think of your folks! We want to help you." He took the letter from Mrs. Conway. "I know," he said, "that a lady's correspondence ought to be sacred, but----" "But," said Edna, not able to refrain from interrupting--"but ask her why it is she doesn't want her letter read." "Well, I reckon I can figure that out for myself," said Mr. Albertson. But in this instance--perhaps the only one of his long and successful career--he was wrong. He could not figure out why it was Pearl objected so violently to allowing that letter to be read. The reason was this: She had always promised Augusta that she would communicate her first impressions of Mr. Wood, and as soon as he and his sister left the house to go to Miss Wellington's she had run upstairs, and on the much-used typewriter she hastily ticked out a prose lyric on the subject of her meeting with the only man she ever could have or ever had loved. It began: My dear, he came this afternoon. Why didn't you tell me what he was like? Oh, I know you said he was attractive. Attractive! He's incredible! He's devastating! And that voice! You never said a word about that voice, which makes me shake every time he speaks--like a telegraph wire in a wind. Oh, Augusta, isn't it silly? But I think I love him---- That was just the way it began.