John roused himself, and took the letters without a word. They were both addressed in feminine handwriting. The one he knew, for it was from Mrs. Wyndham. The other he did not recognize. He opened Mrs. Wyndham’s first.
“DEAR MR. HARRINGTON,–Sam and I are very much put out about it, and sympathize most cordially. We think you might like to come and dine this evening, if you have no other invitation, so I write to say we will be all alone and very glad to see you. Cordially yours,
“JANE WYNDHAM.”
“P.S. Don’t trouble about the answer.”
John read the note through and laid it on the table. Then he turned the other missive over in his fingers, and finally tore open the envelope.
It ran as follows:–
“MY DEAR MR. HARRINGTON,–Please don’t be surprised at my writing to you in this way. I was at Mrs. Wyndham’s this afternoon and heard all about it, and I must write to tell you that I am very, very sorry. It is too horrible to think how bad and wicked and foolish people are, and how they invariably do the wrong thing. I cannot tell you how sorry we all are, because it is just such men as you who are most needed nowadays, though of course I know nothing about politics here. But I am quite sure that all of them will live to regret it, and that you will win in the end. Don’t think it foolish of me to write, because I’m so angry that I can’t in the least help it, and I think everybody ought to.
“Yours in sincerity,”
“JOSEPHINE THORN.”