dropping it would now presumably bring about your marriage."
"I'd marry her the next day!" my visitor cried.
"Yes, but would she marry you? What I ask of you, of course, is nothing less than your word of honor as to your conviction of this. If you give it me," I said, "I'll engage to hand her the letter before night."
Gravener took up his hat; turning it mechanically round, he stood looking a moment hard at its unruffled perfection. Then, very angrily, honestly, and gallantly: "Hand it to the devil!" he broke out; with which he clapped the hat on his head and left me.
"Will you read it or not?" I said to Ruth Anvoy at Wimbledon, when I had told her the story of Mrs. Saltram's visit.
She reflected for a period which was probably of the briefest, but which was long enough to make me nervous. "Have you brought it with you?"
"No, indeed. It's at home locked up."
There was another great silence, and then she said: "Go back and destroy it."
I went back, but I didn't destroy it till after Saltram's death, when I burned it unread. The Pudneys approached her again pressingly, but, prompt as they were, the Coxon Fund had already become an operative benefit and a general amaze: Mr. Saltram, while we gathered about, as it were, to watch the manna descend, was already drawing the magnificent income. He drew it as he had always
