She stopped suddenly and handed him two letters, which he took slowly, and apparently forgot to thank her, saying nothing at all. There was a peculiar expression of dawning surprise upon his face, and he studied the envelopes in his hand without reading a word of the address. Presently he raised his eyes and glanced at Hilda. She was holding a letter daintily between her two forefingers, cornerwise, and with little puffs of her pouted lips was spinning it round, evidently enjoying the infantile amusement immensely.
He dropped his letters into the pocket of his jacket, and stood aside for her to pass into the house; but she, abruptly ceasing her windmill operations, looked at him with raised eyebrows and stood still.
“Well?” she said interrogatively.
“What?”
“And Mr. Trevetz's answer—I suppose it is one of those letters?”
“Oh yes!” he replied. “I had forgotten my promise.”
He took the letters from his pocket, and looked at the addresses again.
“One is from Trevetz,” he said slowly, “and the other from Mrs. Strawd.”
“Nothing from Mr. Bodery?” asked she indifferently.
He had taken a pencil from his pocket, and, turning, he held Trevetz's letter against the wall while he wrote across it. Without ceasing his occupation, and in a casual way, he replied:—