“Have you not expected to hear from her?”
He looked at her with more interest, but replied without emotion:
“No, I have not.”
Then he asked calmly: “Is there any letter?”
“Yes, there is one. It came the second day after you left London.”
“I will have it, please.”
Mary had the letter by her in readiness, and, having given it him, left the room.
Kingcote examined the envelope deliberately, and opened it with equal deliberation. He read this:
“Bernard,
“You have often wronged me so that it seemed to me that you did it wilfully. Surely there can be no real love without trust, and you have never trusted me. As you wish to free yourself, it shall be as if all was at an end between us. But I am not free, for I still love you, and I shall hold myself yours till you have rejected me a second time. Till then I will keep silence; I cannot help it if you misinterpret that, as you have misinterpreted my words.