"Well, I wanted to speak about Polly. Her father has been here
asking questions."
Gammon set his lips almost angrily.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know as anything is. But--have you heard anything about her
going to be married?"
"Has she told her father that?" he asked, with a shuffle of his
feet.
"Not in plain words. But she's doing nothing--except roam about the
streets--and she won't give any straightforward account of herself.
Now would you mind telling me, Mr. Gammon, whether"--her eyes
fell--"I mean, if you've done anything since that night, you know,
to make her offended with you?"
"Offended? Not that I know of," was his prompt answer with genuine
surprise.
Mrs. Clover watched him, and seemed not dissatisfied.
"I'll tell you why I ask. Some time ago she wrote me a queer letter.
It said she _was_ going to be married--or thought about it; and
there was something I couldn't understand about _you_. I shall show
you that letter. I think it's only right."
She withdrew for a moment and returned with Polly's abusive epistle,
which she handed to her visitor.
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