Thatcher saw only that she was pained, that she was helpless: that was
enough. "It is possible that your uncle may have been deceived,"
he began; "many honest men have been fooled by clever but deceitful
tricksters, men and women--"
"Stop! Madre de Dios! WILL YOU STOP?"
Thatcher for an instant recoiled from the flashing eyes and white face
of the little figure that had, with menacing and clenched baby fingers,
strode to his side. He stopped. "Where is this application,--this
forgery?" she asked. "Show it to me!"
Thatcher felt relieved, and smiled the superior smile of our sex over
feminine ignorance. "You could hardly expect me to be trusted with your
uncle's vouchers. His papers of course are in the hands of his counsel."
"And when can I leave this place?" she asked passionately.
"If you consult my wishes you will stay, if only long enough to forgive
me. But if I have offended you unknowingly, and you are implacable--"
"I can go to-morrow at sunrise if I like?"
"As you will," returned Thatcher gravely.
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