"I wish to speak to you."
"In ten minutes," said she, "in the Alameda. I have a letter to post."
"The letter can wait," said he.
"If it did, it would never be posted," said she, and she hurried past him.
The Major followed her with inquisitive eyes; he felt a certain admiration for her buoyant walk, her tall slight figure, which a white muslin dress with a touch of colour at the waist so well set off, and for the pose of her head under the wide straw hat. But business instincts prevailed over his admiration. He lit a cigarette.
"What is the large sealed letter which must be posted at once, or it will never be posted at all?" he asked himself. "Why must it be posted at once?"
He strolled to the Alameda unable to find an answer. In the Alameda, at the bench before the railings, Miranda was waiting for him. She rose at once to meet him.
"Why have you come?" she asked. "It is not quarter-day. We made our bargain. I have kept my part of it."
"Yes," said he. "But it was not a good bargain for me. I underrated my necessities. I overrated my taste for a quiet life."
"And the Horace?" she asked scornfully. "One of the few things worth doing, was it not?"