"Anything to oblige!" he promised generously. "Here Ron! Shy over those letters! She wants something to cheer her up."
"Letters!" Avery looked round sharply. "I had forgotten my letters!" she said.
"Here they are!" Ronald came forward and placed them in her hand. "I picked 'em up this morning, and then when you sent me off for the doc, I forgot all about 'em. I'm sorry. I only came across them when I was undressing, and you were busy in the mater's room, so I thought I'd keep them safe till to-morrow. I hope they are not important," he added.
"I don't suppose so," said Avery; yet her heart jerked oddly as she slipped them into her dress. "Thank you for taking care of them. I must be going now. You are going to be good?"
She looked at Julian, who, still feeling generous, thrust a rough, boyish arm about her neck and kissed her.
"You're a trump!" he said. "There! Good-night! I'll be as meek as Moses in the morning."
It was a definite promise, and Avery felt relieved. She took leave of Ronald more ceremoniously. His scrupulous politeness demanded it. And then with feet that felt strangely light, considering her fatigue, she ran softly down again to Mrs. Lorimer's room.
In the dressing-room adjoining, she opened and read her letters. One of them—the one with the Australian stamp, characteristically brief but kind—was to tell her that the writer, a friend of some standing, was coming to England, and hoped to see her again ere long.
The other, bearing the sinister Evesham crest, lay on the table unopened till she was undressed and ready to join Mrs. Lorimer. Then—for the first time in all that weary day of turmoil—Avery stole a few moments of luxury.
She sat down and opened Piers' letter.