oughtn't to have read one word, but she gave it to me open in the middle and I couldn't help catching sight of my name and Hatherley's, close together. That's no excuse, I know. But hardly conscious of what I was doing, I read on and on, until sentence after sentence seemed branded on my brain in letters of fire. Apparently you were telling Milly all about our acquaintance, and saying it was so 'silly of Captain Hereward to be taken in by my nonsense, that really he'll deserve all he gets.' The letter went on to explain that you were going to 'let me down lightly,' by allowing our correspondence to fizzle out slowly. You put me off by one excuse or another, which I was green enough to take seriously, not realizing that you were bored to death by my solemn face and puritanical ways. It was always a great effort to keep from shocking me, I was such a grim old stick. Fool that I was—I believed then—believed what I thought were your own words. My miserable vanity was wounded to the quick. I had always heard you were a flirt. It was true, I said to myself. You should never be bored by hearing from me again. And that same day I proposed to Millicent."
As he finished the story, he covered his face with his hands, his breath coming hard and fast. Terry touched him softly on the shoulder.
"I don't blame you, Ian," she said, "if it seemed to be my handwriting."
