But that letter from you came--that forgery, you know--and I was carried off and married, willy-nilly, to somebody else.

Who that somebody else is, I don't know." "You don't know ?" "Haven't the slightest idea! I've a good mind to tell you the story.

I haven't told any one yet, and the weight of a secret a month old is getting a little too much for me.

It would be a relief to get some one else to keep it for me, and I fancy you could keep a secret as well as any one else I know." "I can keep your secret, Mollie.

Go on." So Mollie began and related the romantic story of that fortnight she had passed away from home.
"And you consented to marry him," Miriam exclaimed, when she had got that far--"you consented to marry a man totally unknown to you, whose face you had not even seen, whose name you did not even know, for the sake of freedom?
Mollie, you're nothing but a miserable little coward, after all!" "Perhaps so," said Mollie, defiantly.