"Dear, dear, Tommy! What a lot you know about it!"

But Miss Hill's momentary sarcasm went unheeded. "So I really think,
Miss Kenby, if you'll pardon me," Larcher continued, "that Murray
Davenport ought to know your true reason for giving him up. Even if
matters never go any further, he ought to know that you still--h'm--feel
an interest in him--still wish him well. I'm sure if he knew about your
solicitude--how it was the cause of my looking him up--I can see through
all that now--"

"I can never thank you enough--and Edna," said Florence, in a tremulous
voice.

"No thanks are due me," replied Larcher, emphatically. "I value his
acquaintance on its own account. But if he knew about this, knew your
real motives then, and your real feelings now, even if he were never to
see you again, the knowledge would have an immense effect on his life.
I'm sure it would. It would restore his faith in you, in woman, in
humanity. It would console him inexpressibly; would be infinitely sweet
to him. It would change the color of his view of life; give him hope and
strength; make a new man of him."

Florence's eyes glistened through her tears. "I should be so glad," she
said, gently, "if--if only--you see, I promised not to hold any sort of
communication with him."

"Oh, that promise!" cried Edna. "Just think how it was obtained. And
think about those letters that were stopped. If that alone doesn't
release you, I wonder what!"