He leant across the writing-table and kissed her softly, and at some length.
"Now," he said, "read this letter."
"From the Greek fiend! Is he trying to take you away from me again?"
"No, he's not. Read it aloud."
Sylvia read:—
"'Ritz Hotel, Paris.
"'My dear Woodville,—In the short time since I had the pleasure of seeing you, certain changes have come over my views on many subjects; my future is likely to be entirely different from what I had supposed, and I felt impelled to let you know, before any one else, of the unexpected happiness that is about to dawn for me.'
"Oh, Frank, how long-winded and flowery!"
"Never mind that. It's his style always when he's sentimental. Do go on reading."
Sylvia went on. "'I was greatly disappointed at first to know you were unwilling to go to Athens. Perhaps, however, it is better as it is. Briefly, I have found in la ville lumière what I had longed for and despaired of—a reciprocal affection—that of a young and innocent girl—'"