Ingleton burrowed into his paper. "All right," he growled.
Sylvia stood for a few seconds longer, but he did not look up at her, and at length, with a sharp sigh, she turned and left him.
She did not return to her step-mother, however. She went to her room to write her message.
A little later she passed down the garden on her way to the village. A great restlessness was upon her, and she thought the walk to the post-office would do her good.
She came upon Jeffcott in one of the shrubberies, and he stopped her with the freedom of an old servant.
"Beggin' your pardon, missie, but you'll let me wish you joy?" he said. "I heard the good news this morning."
She stood still. His friendly look went straight to her heart, stirring in her an urgent need for sympathy.
"Oh, Jeffcott," she said, "I'd never have given in if Mr. Ranger hadn't stopped writing."
"Lor!" said Jeffcott. "Did he now?" He frowned for an instant.
"But—-didn't you have a letter from him last week?" he questioned.
"Friday morning it were. I see Evans, the postman, and he said as
there were a South African letter for you. Weren't that from Mr.
Ranger, missie?"
"What?" said Sylvia sharply.