that she had gone too far to compromise with truth, "and came here myself this way so as to keep it all dark."
Viola's face had cleared with each word. As the other ended, her lips parted in the smile that John Gault found at once so irresistible and so enigmatic. Letitia found nothing enigmatic in it. She only thought, with a piercing dart of pain, "She is still prettier when she smiles."
"It 's very amusing," said Viola; "but why do you want to fool him?"
Letitia was even ready for this, so expert does the first lie make us in perpetrating the second.
"He says I am useless and can't do anything. I am going to show him that I can make jam."
Viola was rather shocked, but relief and amusement combined to make her light-hearted, and this time she laughed.
"But the writing," she said. "Won't he see by that that it 's not yours? There 's writing on every glass."
"Oh, that will be all right. I 'll have the Chinaman put it out in a dish. But you 'll promise not to give me away?"
"Oh, I never will," said Viola. "In fact," she continued naïvely, "I 'd rather have it that way myself. You see, many people—all people, that is—don't know that I do this."
