Mrs. Enderby smiled again, faintly, and held out her hand for the letter. Lexy returned it to her, with an almost mechanical glance at the postmark—“Wyngate, Connecticut.”
All her defiance had vanished. She was obliged to admit now that Mrs. Enderby was wise, and that she herself was—
“A little fool!” said Lexy candidly to herself.
IV
“Do you mind if I go out for a walk?” asked the crestfallen Lexy; for that was her instinct in any sort of trouble—to get out into the fresh air and walk.
“No,” answered Mrs. Enderby; “but I shall ask you to return in half an hour. There is much to be done.”
“Done!” cried Lexy. “But what can be done—now?”
“That I shall tell you when you return,” said Mrs. Enderby. “In the meantime, I trust you to say nothing of all this to any person whatever. You understand, Miss Moran?”
Miss Moran certainly did not understand, but she gave her promise to keep silent, and, putting on her hat and coat, hurried out of the house. Mighty glad she was to get out, too!
“But why make a mystery of it like this?” she thought. “Every one has to know, sooner or later, and it’s so—so ghastly, pretending that Caroline’s there! Oh, it doesn’t seem possible, Caroline running off like that, and I never even dreaming she was the least bit interested in any man! I don’t see how she could have seen any one or written to any one without my knowing it. It doesn’t seem possible!”