Hetty said nothing for a moment, then, suddenly crossing the room, she stooped down and kissed Miss Schuyler.
“I have never met any one who would do as much for me as you would, Flo,” she said. “I don’t think there is anything that could come between us.”
There was silence for another moment, and during it Miss Schuyler looked steadily into Hetty’s eyes. “No,” she said, “although you do not seem quite sure, I don’t think there is.”
It was early the next morning when Christopher Allonby arrived at the Range. He smiled as he glanced at the packet Hetty handed him.
“I have never seen your father anything but precise,” he said.
“Has anything led you to fancy that he has changed?” asked Hetty.
Allonby laughed as he held out the packet. “The envelope is all creased and crumpled. It might have been carried round for ever so long in somebody’s pocket. Now, I know you don’t smoke, Hetty.”
“There is no reason why I should not, but, as it happens, I don’t,” said Miss Torrance.
“Then, the packet has a most curious, cigar-like smell,” said Allonby, smiling. “Now, I don’t think Mr. Torrance carries loose cigars and letters about with him together. I wonder what deduction one could make from this.”
Hetty glanced at Miss Schuyler. “You could never make the right one, Chris,” she said.