"If you please," answered Garrison. "I shall take the liberty of steaming this open and removing its contents, after which I will place an antedated letter or notification of the—our marriage—written by yourself—in the envelope, redirect it, and send it along. It will finally land in the hands of your lawyer with its tardiness very naturally explained."
"You mean the notification will appear as if misdirected originally," said Dorothy. "An excellent idea."
"Perhaps you will compose the note at once," said Garrison, pushing paper, pen, and ink across the desk. "You may leave the rest, with the address, to me."
His visitor hesitated for a moment, as if her decision wavered in this vital moment of plunging into unknown fates, but she took up the pen and wrote the note and address with commendable brevity.
Garrison was walking up and down the office.
"The next step——" he started to say, but his visitor interrupted.
"Isn't this the only step necessary to take until something arises making others expedient?"
"There is one slight thing remaining," he answered, taking up her card.
"You are in a private residence?"
"Yes. The caretaker, a woman, is always there."
"Have you acquainted her with the fact of your marriage?"