She turned from him, laid her head on the end of the sofa, and sobbed so that the room seemed to shake with the convulsions of her grief.

"Letty," said Godfrey, laying his hand on her head, "it is no use any more trying to hide the truth.

I don't want any dinner; in fact, I dined long ago.

But you would not be open with me, and I was forced to find out for myself: you have not enough to eat, and you know it.

I will not say a word about who is to blame--for anything I know, it may be no one--I am sure it is not you.
But this must not go on! See, I have brought you a little pocket-book.
I will call again tomorrow, and you will tell me then how you like it." He laid the pocket-book on the table.