"That's her marriage certificate," he said to the woman. She stared
at him.
"Mr. Williston, do you believe that child?" she burst out, loosening
her hold on the bottle in her hand. "Why, she may be making it all
up! I--I--you must be crazy! You don't even know her name! I won't
allow it--"
He broke into her excited remonstrance gravely.
"I don't believe a child could make up such details, in the first
place, Mrs. Ufford," he said, "she is repeating something she's
heard, I think. Did your cousin mention anything else?" he said
abruptly to Caroline.
She smiled gratefully at him. "The mother must be a good woman," she
quoted placidly.
Both of them started.
"Do you think a child would invent that?" he demanded. "Now, see
here. You take Mrs. Ufford home with you in the automobile and she
can see if there's anything in what you say, really. If there's not,
she can go right on with the--with it, and do as--as we arranged
before. It's all written on the paper, and my full consent to the
adoption, and if there's anything legal to do about it, Mrs. Ufford
can attend to it. But nobody'll trouble 'em--they can be sure of
that. My people all died long ago and--and hers--hers...."
He stopped short. With eyes filled and lips vaguely moving he fell
into a strange revery, a sort of tranced stupor.
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