Gussie followed her sister into the dining-room, and she set about her duties as well as she could, but finding that Traverse was not in the room she soon felt more at ease.

Dexie felt that she must see Mr. Traverse before the rest entered the parlor.  She had been so astonished at his bold claim of ownership that for a moment she could not understand it, but the truth flashed on her mind that he had done it to shield her, and she blessed him for it.

Guy looked round as the door opened, and coming forward he took the tray she carried in her hands and set it on a small table near, saying: 

“Is this for both of us, Miss Dexie?  Sit here,” and he placed a screen to hide them from the gaze of intruders; then coming over to her side, drew the letter from his pocket, saying:  “Forgive me, Miss Dexie, for claiming your property; it is yours, is it not?”

“Unfortunately, yes; and you were more than kind to shield me as you did,” and she put the cause of the trouble in the deepest corner of her pocket.  “I did not know what to do when I heard Gussie reading it aloud.”

“I knew at once it was yours by the way you looked; but I thought I would play the vanquished lover, and crave your pardon for my audacity afterwards,” and he looked intently into Dexie’s flushed face.

“Believe me, Mr. Traverse, the writer of that letter is not the silly man one would expect, judging by his foolish words.  In everything else he is worthy of respect.”

“Do you think it foolish for a man to love a woman with such love as he speaks of in the letter?”

“Yes; when the man knows it is useless, he should try and forget her.”

“He should try—­hum!—­well, it seems one does not always succeed in forgetting, even with much trying.  Miss Dexie, you owe me a favor; tell me honestly how you stand with this lover from over the sea.  Are you engaged to be married to him, yet give him cause to write in such a strain?”

“No, certainly not; I am aware that this letter has given you the impression that I have been corresponding with the writer, but it is not so.  This is only the second time I have had a letter from him, though I believe papa hears from him occasionally; but I have never sent him a line.”

“How does it happen that he writes to you so appealingly?  Have you jilted him, Miss Dexie?” and he looked eagerly into her face, to read her answer.  “Will you not tell me?” he added, as he waited some moments for her reply.

“There is very little to tell, Mr. Traverse.  I think the part of the letter that you heard tells the story well enough,” and she gave a quick look into his face, “but I think I understand what you mean.  This is not the one that Gussie refers to so often.”

“Miss Dexie, if I have spared your feelings to-night, spare mine now, and tell me what I ask:  Is there more than one lover across the sea?  Do tell me the truth, Miss Dexie.”