She heard the tramp of his heavy boots returning. He came back to her.
“The letter is not here,” he said briefly. “Does it matter?”
She started. “Not there! But—I thought I saw it from my window. I thought——”
“It is not there,” he repeated. “It has probably blown away. Is it of any great importance?”
His tone seemed to challenge her. She looked up and met his eyes watching her with a certain hardness.
“No,” she said, and wondered what impulse moved her to utter the word.
“You are sure?” he said.
She smiled a little at his insistence. “Yes, quite sure. Please don’t trouble about it! It will probably turn up later.”
He dropped the subject without further discussion. “I had better carry you back now,” he remarked, and stooped to lift her.
She drew back sharply. “Oh, don’t, please! I can walk quite well.”