"
"No, no. Of course he didn't," Cornish said earnestly. "But Lord
sakes--" he said again. He rose to walk about, found it impracticable
and sat down.
"That's what Dwight don't want me to tell--he thinks it isn't true. He
thinks--he didn't have any other wife. He thinks he wanted--" Lulu
looked up at him.
"You see," she said, "Dwight thinks he didn't want me."
"But why don't you make your--husband--I mean, why doesn't he write to
Mr. Deacon here, and tell him the truth--" Cornish burst out.
Under this implied belief, she relaxed and into her face came its rare
sweetness.
"He has written," she said. "The letter's there."
He followed her look, scowled at the two letters.
"What'd he say?"
"Dwight don't like me to touch his mail. I'll have to wait till he
comes back."
"Lord sakes!" said Cornish.
This time he did rise and walk about. He wanted to say something, wanted
it with passion. He paused beside Lulu and stammered: "You--you--you're
too nice a girl to get a deal like this.
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