“I am afraid the explanation is obvious.”
“You have no right to say that. How do you know? If you are not going to read her letter, you had better say so at once. I dont want to pry into it: I only want to know what is become of Marian.”
“You shall read it by all means. Will you excuse me whilst I fetch it?”
She stamped with impatience. He smiled and went for the letter, which, after a brief absence, he placed unopened on the table before her, saying:
“I suppose this is it. I laid my hand on it in the dark.”
“Are you going to open it?” she said, hardly able to contain herself.
“No.”
He had not raised his voice; but it struck her that he was in a rage. His friendly look and quiet attitude first reassured, then, on second thoughts, exasperated her.
“Why wont you?”
“I really dont know. Somehow, I am not curious. It interests you. Pray open it.”