The message came back on the instant. He could.
She turned the knob to his office door so slowly that she saved the slightest squeak, and stood there with her silhouette against the ground glass for a long moment. When she did enter, from the center of the room where he had been watching her silhouette against the pane, Bruce advanced to meet her.
He took her hand and on the instant she felt her eyes fill, burningly.
He was in summer and office negligée, an unlined blue-serge coat, a white-silk shirt which lay lightly to his body flexuosity, and above the soft collar he had taken on enough outdoor tan to make his smile whiter. She could have bitten her lips for their trembling, and tried to smile with her tortured eyes.
"Lilly," he said, topping her hand with his, "why didn't you let me know sooner? Your letter an hour ago came out of a clear sky. You see, I didn't even know he—he was here."
"It was all so—so quick!"
"Jove! I don't seem to take it in yet."
"Nor I," she said, quiescently and letting him lead her to a chair.
"He—You see, he was only ill three days."
"There doesn't seem much for me to say, does there, Lilly?"
"No," she said, "that's it, there's nothing to say."