“The—the——” she pointed at the trousers, “are they how you wanted them?”
“Fine,” replied Wilfred; “they are just perfect. There isn’t a girl in Richmond who could have done them better. Now about the letter. I want your advice on it; what do you think?”
“Tell me what you said.”
“You want to hear it?” asked Wilfred.
“I’ve got to, haven’t I? How could I help you if I didn’t know what it was all about?”
“You’re a pretty good girl, Caroline. You will help me, won’t you?”
Her hand rested on the table as she bent over him, and he laid his own hand upon it and squeezed it warmly, too warmly thought Caroline, as she slowly drew it away and was sorry she did it the moment she had done so.
“Yes, I will help you,” she said. “But about the letter? You will have to hurry. I am sure your mother will be here in a short time.”
“Well, that letter is mighty important, you know. Everything depends upon it, much more than on mother’s letter, I am sure.”
“I should think so,” said the girl.