"Of course," said Ainsleigh lingering at the door, "it's her wedding day. I expect she knows by this time, that Forge has cut.
"I hope not," said the Major cruelly. "I wouldn't lose the fun for something."
Rupert didn't agree with his callous view of the case, as Miss Pewsey was a woman after all, although a bad one; and it would be hard that she should suffer, what she would certainly regard as a public disgrace. So Rupert avoided St. Peter's Church, and went home again. Here he found Olivia with a letter.
"This arrived by the early post," she explained, "but you went out so quickly, that I could not give it to you. Just look at it Rupert, such beautiful writing."
"A foreigner's evidently," said her husband, looking at the really elegant calligraphy. "They take more care than we do of their pot-hook and hangers. Olivia." He started.
"What's the matter?"
Rupert put the envelope under her nose. "Smell it. Don't you recognise the scent."
"No," said Mrs. Ainsleigh, "it's a strange scent."
"Very, and was used to perfume the letter which Tung-yu sent to Major Tidman. This may have to do with the fan again."
Olivia looked nervous. "I wish we could hear the last of it," she said. "It has caused enough trouble already. Open the letter, dear."