His trembling hands were opening the letter which Rita Wallace had left for him.
He drew the page out of the envelope and then he looked up at Ethel Harrison again. There was a dreadful yearning in his voice now.
"Yes, yes, but whom has my little Rita married?"
Real fear fell upon Ethel now. She became aware that this man had not realised what had happened in any way. But the whole thing was too painful. It must be got over at once.
"Mr. Ingworth Dickson, of course," she answered, with some sharpness in her tones.
For a minute Lothian looked at her as if she were the horizon. Then he nodded. "Oh, Dicker," he said in a perfectly uninterested voice—"Yes, Dicker—just her man, of course. . . ."
He was reading the letter now.
This was Rita's farewell letter.
"Gilbert dear:
"I shall always read your books and poems, and I shall always think of you. We have been tremendous friends, and though we shall never meet again, we shall always think of each other, shan't we? I am going to marry Dicker to-morrow morning, and by the time you see this—Wog will send it—I shall be married. Of course we mustn't meet or write to each other any more. You are married and I'm going to be to-morrow. But do think of your little friend sometimes, Gilbert. She will often think of you and read all you write."