"Ah, Mrs. Carson," he said (he had schooled himself to say the name), "I am indeed glad to see you again. But--but, you are not looking after yourself!"
"Oh, I am well enough, really," said Olive, giving him her hand, "but I am terribly worried."
"Worried?" repeated Mallow, sitting down near her, "worried? what about?"
Before Olive could reply, the door leading to the bedroom opened abruptly, and Clara came in with a hat in her hand. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," said the maid, "but do you wish this hat left out from the packing?"
"Yes, of course," replied Olive, astonished at her asking so unnecessary a question.
"Thank you, ma'am." The girl retired. Olive would have been more than astonished, had she seen her a minute later. The door was left slightly ajar, and the girl's ear was taking in every word she could catch.
"That young woman is still with you, I see," observed Laurence.
"Yes, she is a very excellent servant," replied Olive. "Why?"
"Oh, nothing. I merely remarked the fact," said Mallow, who had his reasons for keeping his own counsel. "But, to continue our conversation, why are you worried?"
"I will tell you everything shortly. Meanwhile I want you to read this." Olive placed in his hands the extracts she had copied from Mrs. Purcell's letter, and pointed out to him one paragraph in particular: "Mr. Carson has had golden wrist-buttons made to match his unique bracelet, wrought in the same style, but of vastly inferior workmanship."