"No, no!" she cried. "Wait! Wait! I want to think!"
A discreet cough sounded. The butler approached bearing coffee. He wore a half sneer on his face now, the sneer of the unpaid mercenary. He doubted, and had cause to doubt, whether the last month's salary would be forthcoming; for butlers read morning papers. "Ah, er, Mrs. Rawn—" he began.
"What do you want? How dare you speak to me!" she rejoined. "I do not care to be disturbed! You may go!"
He did go; and this was on an errand of his own, an errand which ended in Grace Halsey's chambers. For butlers sometimes take ingenious revenge.
XI
Halsey and Virginia Rawn sat on for a time at the table, the almost untasted breakfast before them. The sun grew warmer. After a time she rose, and they passed from the gallery toward the interior of the house. The tray upon the hall table held a scanty morning load for it—one letter and a telegram; the former addressed to Mrs. Charles Halsey, the latter to herself.
"Shall I?" she asked, and tore the envelope across.
"It must be from him," he said. She tossed it to him.
"Home to-night. JOHN RAWN."