"I shouldn't be surprised," her sister whispered, as Thain approached, "if he didn't help you presently to make up your mind."
CHAPTER VII
Marcia Hannaway called upon her publisher during the course of the following day. She found the ready entrée of a privileged client—with scarcely a moment's delay she was ushered into the presence of James Borden, the person who for some years now had occupied the second place in her thoughts and life.
"Anything happened, Marcia?" he enquired, after their quiet but familiar greeting. "You look as though you were bringing Fate with you."
She made herself comfortable in the easy-chair which he had drawn up to the fire. Outside, an unexpectedly cold wind made the sense of warmth doubly pleasant. She unfastened her simple furs and smiled at him a little dolefully.
"Just this," she replied, handing him a letter.
He spread it out, adjusted his eyeglasses and read it deliberately:
94, GROSVENOR SQUARE, Thursday.
My dear Marcia: