“Mon ami!—I have but this moment received your letter, which seems to have been delayed. I say nothing here of the happiness which its contents have given me. Come at once.
“Jessica Pendleton.
“Our engagement must be a profound secret until the year of my mourning is over.”
Severance folded the note, his face paling a little.
“Well, well, she is true after all. What a brute I was to misjudge her!” He strolled back to the office. “I will go home and write to her, and to-morrow I shall see her! Great Heaven! Were six months ever so long before?”
As he turned from the coat-room Boswell entered the office by the opposite door.
“The fellow looks as gay as a lark,” he thought. “He hasn’t looked like that for six months. I believe I’ll make it up with him—particularly as I’ve come out ahead!”
“Give me that package,” demanded Boswell dreamily of the clerk. Then he caught sight of Severance. “Why, Jack, old fellow!” he cried, “how are you? Haven’t seen you looking so well for an age. Don’t go out. It’s too hot.”
“Oh, hang it! I’ve got to. I’m off for Newport to-morrow. It’s so infernally dull in town.”
“Going to Newport to-morrow! So am I. My aunt is quite ill and has sent for me. I’m her heir, you know.”