From his pocketbook Willard drew something folded and creased and yellow that looked like a letter . He opened it carefully and , holding it in his fingers , looked over it at Miss Sally . `` My grandmother 's maiden name was Jean Merritt , '' he said deliberately , `` and Stephen Merritt was my great-uncle . I never saw him -- he died when I was a child -- but I 've heard my father speak of him often . '' Miss Sally turned very pale . She passed her cobwebby handkerchief across her lips and her hand trembled . Willard went on . `` My uncle never married . He and his sister Jean lived together until her late marriage . I was not very fond of my grandmother . She was a selfish , domineering woman -- very unlike the grandmother of tradition . When she died everything she possessed came to me , as my father , her only child , was then dead . In looking over a box of old papers I found a letter -- an old love letter . I read it with some interest , wondering whose it could be and how it came among Grandmother 's private letters . It was signed ` Stephen , ' so that I guessed my great-uncle had been the writer , but I had no idea who the Sally was to whom it was written , until the other day . Then I knew it was you -- and I went home to bring you your letter -- the letter you should have received long ago . Why you did not receive it I can not explain . I fear that my grandmother must have been to blame for that -- she must have intercepted and kept the letter in order to part her brother and you . In so far as I can I wish to repair the wrong she has done you . I know it can never be repaired -- but at least I think this letter will take the bitterness out of the memory of your lover . ''
He dropped the letter XXXXX Miss Sally 's lap and went away .
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