I don't believe she had a
thing to do with your sergeant's stealing."
"You wouldn't believe she stole my whisky and gave it to Downs, though
you admitted she told you she had to go back that night for something
she'd dropped. You wouldn't believe she married that rascally gambler
at St. Louis before her first husband was out of the way! You shielded
and swore by her, and brought her out here, and all the time the
proofs were here in Blakely's hands. It was _she_, I suppose, who
broke off--"
But here, indeed, was it high time to break off. The visitors were now
visibly rising in all proper embarrassment, for Mrs. Plume had started
up, with staring eyes. "Proofs!" she cried, "in Blakely's hands! Why,
she told me--my own letters!--my--" And then brutal man was brought to
his senses and made to see how heartless and cruel was his conduct,
for Mrs. Plume went into a fit and Mrs. Lynn for the doctor.
That was a wild night at Sandy. Two young matrons had made up their
minds that it was shameful to leave poor Mrs. Plume without anybody to
listen to her, when she might so long for sympathetic hearers, and
have so much to tell. They had entered as soon as the major came forth
and, softly tapping at the stricken one's door, had been with her
barely five minutes when he came tearing back, and all this tremendous
scene occurred before they could put in a word to prevent, which, of
course, they were dying to do.
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