'Your divination with regard to my brother's most eccentric behaviour was doubtless correct,' she said. 'He wished to succour his wretched companion. Anywhere—it matters not to him what!—he allies himself with miserable mortals. He is the modern Samaritan. You should thank him for saving you an encounter with some low creature.'
Swaying the letter to and fro, she pursued archly: 'I can read your thoughts. You are dying to know to whom this dear letter is addressed!'
Instantly Harry, whose eyes had previously been quite empty of expression, glanced at the letter wistfully.
Shall I tell you?'
'Yes, do.'
'It's to somebody I love.'
'Are you in love then?' was his disconcerted rejoinder.
'Am I not married?'
'Yes; but every woman that's married isn't in love with her husband, you know.'
'Oh! Don Juan of the provinces!' she cried, holding the seal of the letter before him in playful reproof. 'Fie!'