"From Ramelton?" asked Sutch, dropping his newspaper on to the terrace.
"From Ramelton," answered Feversham. "I'll light a cigar first."
He laid the letter down on the garden table which stood between his companion and himself, drew a cigar-case from his pocket, and in spite of the impatience of Lieutenant Sutch, proceeded to cut and light it with the utmost deliberation. The old man had become an epicure in this respect. A letter from Ramelton was a luxury to be enjoyed with all the accessories of comfort which could be obtained. He made himself comfortable in his chair, stretched out his legs, and smoked enough of his cigar to assure himself that it was drawing well. Then he took up his letter again and opened it.
"From him?" asked Sutch.
"No; from her."
"Ah!"
General Feversham read the letter through slowly, while Lieutenant Sutch tried not to peep at it across the table. When the general had finished he turned back to the first page, and began it again.
"Any news?" said Sutch, with a casual air.
"They are very pleased with the house now that it's rebuilt."
"Anything more?"