Edgar said nothing, and returned to the letter.
“Are—are you writing to Miss Dallas?” he said presently, with a rather shy intonation.
“No; I have not that privilege. To her brother.”
“Tell me about her. What’s her name?” said Edgar.
Alwyn was nothing loath.
“Corinne is her name,” he said; “they use it in America.” And then he went on and told Edgar a great deal, for which there is no space in this story, and as he talked his face grew happy and eager, and Edgar listened a little wistfully.
“Now it will be all right for you?” he said.
“I think so—I hope so. Mr Dallas only wished to be certain that no complications could occur in the future. He does trust me, and is satisfied with my position there. My father has said all that is needful.”
“And when shall you go back, Val?” said Edgar.
The bright eyes were still resolute and clear and the voice steady, though with a little strain in it.