It was a very brief epistle, written in evident distress of mind.
"MY DEAR GRAND-NIECE,
"Will you permit me to tender to you my very humble apology for the gross behaviour by which I drove you from the shelter of my roof? The fact that you have returned to your husband's house convinces me of the base injustice of my suspicions. I ought to be old enough to know that a woman cannot be judged by her friends. If you find that you possess sufficient magnanimity to extend a free pardon to a very lonely and penitent old sinner, will you of your charity return--for however brief a period--and give him an opportunity to demonstrate his penitence?
"Yours humbly and hopefully,
"EDWARD WARREN."
"Oh, poor old man!" Maud looked up quickly. "But how did he know I was here?"
"I wired to him of your safe arrival," Jake said, "in reply to a wire from him which I didn't read. I thought he might come posting down here if I didn't."
"Poor old man!" she said again. And after a moment, "Thank you, Jake."
He looked at her. "For keeping my word? I generally do that. Say, what are you going to do?"
"I'll write to him," she said.