"I don't think it was a pretence," faltered Patty, who looked very ill at ease, for all the bloom on her cheeks and the clear, childish light in her eyes.
"Well, then, why hasn't she come to-day?"
"She has sent a letter for you, Mr. Hilliard."
Patty handed the missive, and Hilliard laid it upon the table.
"Am I to read it now?"
"I think it's a long letter."
"Feels like it. I'll study it at my leisure. You know what it contains?"
Patty nodded, her face turned away.
"And why has she chosen to-day to write to me?" Patty kept silence. "Anything to do with the call I had yesterday from my friend Narramore?"
"Yes—that's the reason. But she has meant to let you know for some time."