“Mrs. Morrisey, I am going to London.”
“Very good, sir!” Mrs. Morrisey was giving up all hopes of this restless young master of hers. “Very good, sir!”
“I shall be back”—he paused—“eventually, if not sooner!”
“Certainly, sir!” said Mrs. Morrisey, who had no sense of humour.
“Meanwhile, send on any letters to the Northborough Hotel. I shall catch the seven-thirty,” said Hugh.
“I’ll order the car round, sir,” said Mrs. Morrisey.
And this very day at Starden pride broke down; the need was so great. It was not the money that the man demanded, but the bonds that paying it would forge about her, bind her for all time.
“Please come to me here. I want your help. I am in great trouble, and there is no one I can turn to but you.
“JOAN.”
And not till after the letter was in the post did she remember that she had signed it with her Christian name only.