XIII
THE TITAN'S DRIVER
There was a letter for Corrie in the evening mail, next day. At least, there was an envelope containing a gaudy picture-postal. It was at this last that Corrie was gazing, when Gerard came to remind him that dinner waited, and of it he first spoke.
"It's from Isabel. I—she need not have sent it!" He abruptly pushed the card across the table toward Gerard and turned away to complete his preparations.
"A postal?"
"Oh, yes. She used to be fond of writing long letters, but she has quit the habit. Flavia tells me she has not received but three postal-cards from Isabel since they parted, although they used to be such chums."
"I am to read?"
"If you like."
The red and green landscape represented, libellously, the Natural Bridge of Virginia. Across the glazed surface ran a few blurred lines of script:
"Dear Corrie: