“I have,” he admitted.
“The lady who wrote that letter,” she said, “is at present in Spain.”
He turned to go.
“I am not surprised,” he answered. “My star is not exactly in the ascendant just now.”
“Don’t be too sure,” she said. “And whatever you do, don’t go away. Sit down if you are tired. You don’t seem strong.”
“I am not,” he admitted. “Would you like,” he added, “to know what is the matter with me?”
“It is nothing serious, I hope?”
“I am starving,” he declared, simply. “I have eaten nothing for twenty-four hours.”
She looked at him for a moment as though doubting his words. Then she moved rapidly to a desk which stood in a corner of the room.
“You are a very foolish person,” she said, “to allow yourself to get into such a state, when all the time you had this letter in your pocket. But I forgot,” she added, unlocking the desk. “You had not read it. You had better have some money to buy yourself food and clothes, and come here again.”