It was impossible for us to discover whether she approved of our remaining in the room or not.
Mr.Keller read the closely written pages with the steadiest attention.
He signed to the widow to approach him, and took her hand when he had arrived at the last words.
"Let me ask your pardon," he said, "in the presence of my partner and in the presence of David Glenney, who took charge of your letter.

Madame Fontaine, I speak the plain truth, in the plainest words, when I tell you that I am ashamed of myself." She dropped on her knees before him, and entreated him to say no more.
Mr.Engelman looked at her, absorbed in admiration.

Perhaps it was the fault of my English education--I thought the widow's humility a little overdone.

What Mr.Keller's opinion might be, he kept to himself.

He merely insisted on her rising, and taking a chair by his side.
"To say that I believe every word of your letter," he resumed, "is only to do you the justice which I have too long delayed.