“I can assure you,” Mr. Sabin said, “that I had not the faintest idea of coming. My visit to Norfolk will be anything but a pleasure trip, and I shall have no time to spare.
“I believe I have your address: ‘Westacott Farm, Fakenham,’ is it not? Now do what you like in the meantime, but a week from to-day there will be a letter from me there. Here is the cheque.”
The girl rose and shook out her skirts.
“Aren’t you going to take me anywhere?” she asked. “You might ask me to have supper with you to-night.”
Mr. Sabin shook his head gently.
“I am sorry,” he said, “but I have a young lady living with me.”
“Oh!”
“She is my niece, and it takes more than my spare time to entertain her,” he continued, without noticing the interjection. “You have plenty of friends. Go and look them up and enjoy yourself—for a week. I have no heart to go pleasure-making until my work is finished.”
She drew on her gloves and walked to the door. Mr. Sabin came with her and opened it.