_
ELFIE. Well?
LAURA. Will suspected. There was something in the paper about Mr.
Madison--the telegram came--then we had a row.
ELFIE. Serious?
LAURA. Yes. Do you remember what I told you about that letter--the one
Will made me write--I mean to John--telling him what I had done?
ELFIE. Yes, you burned it.
LAURA. I tried to lie to Will--he wouldn't have it that way. He seemed
to know. He was furious.
ELFIE. Did he hit you?
LAURA. No; he made me admit that John didn't know, and then he said
he'd stay here and tell himself that I'd made him lie, and then he
said something about liking the other man and wanting to save him.
ELFIE. Save--shucks! He's jealous.
LAURA. I told him if he'd only go I'd--tell John myself when he came,
and now you see I'm waiting--and I've got to tell--and--and I don't
know how to begin--and--and I thought you could help me--you seem so
sort of resourceful, and it means--it means so much to me. If John
turned on me now I couldn't go back to Will, and, Elfie,--I don't
think I'd care to--stay here any more.
ELFIE. What! [_In an awestruck tone, taking_ LAURA _in her arms
impulsively._] Dearie, get that nonsense out of your head and be
sensible. I'd just like to see any two men who could make me think
about--well--what you seem to have in your mind.
LAURA. But I don't know; don't you see, Elfie, I don't know. If I
don't tell him, Will will come back and he'll tell him, and I know
John and maybe--Elfie, do you know, I think John would kill him.
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