Her first
impulse was to hand the letter over at once; then there came the
remembrance of all it contained, all it suggested. Would he see all it
suggested? She recalled the words Lacey had used regarding a service
which David had once done her. If Eglington asked, what could she say? It
was not her secret alone, it was another's. Would she have the right,
even if she wished it, to tell the truth, or part of the truth? Or, would
she be entitled to relate some immaterial incident which would evade the
real truth? What good could it do to tell the dark story? What could it
serve? Eglington would horribly misunderstand it--that she knew. There
were the verses also. They were more suggestive than anything else,
though, indeed, they might have referred to another woman, or were merely
impersonal; but she felt that was not so. And there was Eglington's
innate unbelief in man and woman! Her first impulse held, however. She
would act honestly. She would face whatever there was to face. She would
not shelter herself; she would not give him the right in the future to
say she had not dealt fairly by him, had evaded any inquest of her life
or mind which he might make.
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