ay
which of the two was the whiter.

"You speak of love to me?"

He stood there, stunned. His silence spoke eloquently to her. He was
guilty. She leaped to this conclusion at once, not realizing that no
man can immediately defend himself when accused so abruptly.

"You speak of love!" Her wrath seemed to scorch her lips. "My poor
brother!"

Warrington straightened. "Do you believe this?" He threw the letter
aside, as if the touch contaminated him, caring not where it fell.

"Is it true?"

"An anonymous letter?" he replied, contemptuously.

"I know who wrote it."

"You know who wrote it? Who?" There was terrible anger in his voice
now.

"I decline to answer."

"So you give me not even the benefit of a doubt! You believe it!"

Patty was less observant than usual. "Will you please go now? I do not
think there is anything more to be said."

"No. I will go." He spoke quietly, but like a man who has received his
death-stroke. "One question more. Did McQuade write that letter?"

"No."

He picked up his hat. "So much for my dreams! Deny it? Deny calumny of
the anonymous order? No! Defend myself against such a lie? No!"

He walked from the room, his head erect. He did not turn to look at
her again. The hall door closed. He was gone.

Chapter XIX

Tragedy was abroad that day, crossing and recrossing Williams Street.
Tragedy has the same prerogative as love and death--the right to enter
the palace or the hovel, into the heart of youth or age. It was not a
killing to-day, only a breaking of hearts, that is to say, the first
step. Tragedy never starts out on her rounds roughly; she seeks her
cause first; she seeks her anonymous letter, her idle hands, her lying
tongue; then she is ready. Tragedy does nothing hastily; she graduates
her victim.

Warrington stumbled rather than walked home. When he reached the
opposite curb he slipped and fell, bruising his hands. ... Deny it?
Deny it when convicted without trial? There are never any proofs to
refute a letter written by an unknown enemy. There is never any guard
against the stab in the back. ... He and Kate! It was monstrous. And
John? Did John know? Did John see that letter? No, Patty surely had
not shown it to John. He knew John (or he believed he did); not all
the proofs or explanations Heaven or earth could give would convince
John, if that letter fell into his hands. ... And he was to speak at a
mass meeting that night! God! He stumbled up the step