“I use the terms employed by the philosophical,” he hastened to explain; “but my own opinion is inclined to coincide with yours, my dear Alicia.”
This paternal use of her Christian name, coupled with the kindly tone of his justification, encouraged the Baroness to open her business.
“Sir Justin,” she began, “can I trust you—may I ask you not to tell my mother that I have visited you?”
“If you can show me an adequate reason, you may rely upon my discretion,” said the ex-diplomatist cautiously, yet with an encouraging smile.
“In some things one would sooner confide in a man than a woman, Sir Justin.”
“That is undoubtedly true,” he agreed cordially. “You may confide in me, Baroness.”
“I have heard from my husband again. I need not show you the letter; it is quite satisfactory—oh, quite, I assure you! Only I found this enclosed with it.”
In breathless silence she watched him examine critically first the heather and then the verses.
“Lord Tulliwuddle!” he exclaimed. “Is there anything in the Baron's letter to throw any light upon this?”
“Not one word—not the slightest hint.”