"Oh, yes. I've got no end of messages. She's had your letters, all of 'em; and she hopes that you are taking advantage of your splendid position. Is it a splendid position, Nell? They seemed to think me of some consequence when I mentioned, dissembling my pride in the connection, that I was your brother."
Nell nodded.
"Yes, yes; it is all right, and I am quite—happy. And Shorne Mills, Dick, are they all well?"
"And kicking. I've got a hundred messages which you can sum up in 'love from all.' And, Nell, I've only time to say how are you, for I'm going to catch the Irish mail. Fact! Bardsley & Bardsley are sending me to some engineering work there. How's that for high? Ah, would you!" gingerly whisking his hat behind him. "Keep off; and, Nell, how's Drake?"
The abrupt question sent the blood rushing through Nell's face, and then as suddenly from it, leaving it stone white.
"Drake—Mr. Vernon?" she said, almost inaudibly. "I—I do not know. I—I have not seen—heard."
"No? That's rum! I should have thought that tiff was over by this time. Can't make it out! What have you been doing, Miss Lorton?"
Nell bravely tried to smile.
"You—you have seen him? You never wrote and told me, Dick! You—you gave him my note?"
Dick nodded rather gravely.