CHAPTER XII

The imputation effectually dried the tears which the letter had brought to Julie’s lashes. She carefully brushed a pine-needle from the shoulder of her white frock before she met the hostile eyes pillorizing her and inquired in a faintly surprised voice: “Were you speaking to me, Pamela?” “I was and that isn’t all I have to say. It is only fair to warn you that I intend to find out what black art you employed when you persuaded Jim Trafford to marry you.” The words loosed a yelping pack of memories in Julie’s mind.…