Mr. Kelly smiled, and the smile lent to his face a peculiar attractiveness. Somehow he had never felt disposed to smile in Cecilia's presence. "Only in the morning?" he asked. "But come to supper just the same. At half-past eight."
Felix agreed, with the private addition, "I needn't stay long, if he begins to preach."
Then Mr. Kelly crossed the road, to speak to somebody who seemed to be waiting for a word: while Felix dashed on to his own door, less than half-a-street distant.
On the step, Mrs. Crofton met him. "A letter at last, sir. But it isn't from Miss Anderson nor Miss Lettice. I know their handwritings."
Felix recognised Dr. Bryant's, and opened it in haste.
"Why! What—"
"Eh, sir? Nothing wrong?"
"They've not got there! Never arrived! What can it mean?"
Mrs. Crofton's lower jaw dropped, and she burst into a series of exclamations. Felix read his note again, deaf to her audible astonishment!
"QUARRINGTON COTTAGE
"Friday afternoon.
"DEAR ANDERSON,—My niece and Lettice did not arrive yesterday; and no letter has come to-day. The weather has been sufficient to account for delay; but I think a telegram might have been sent, to prevent my useless drive into Bristol. Pray let me know when I am to expect them.—
"Yours faithfully,
"MAURICE BRYANT."