And, seeing all this, Anthea felt herself very lonely all at once, and, turning aside, saw all things through a blur of sudden tears. She was possessed, also, of a sudden, fierce loathing of the future, a horror because of the promise her letter contained. Nevertheless she was firm, and resolute on her course because of the pride that burned within her.
So thus it was that as the Sergeant presently came striding along on his homeward way, he was suddenly aware of Miss Anthea standing before him; whereupon he halted, and removing his hat, wished her a "good-afternoon!"
"Sergeant," said she, "will you do something for me?"
"Anything you ask me, Miss Anthea, mam,—ever and always."
"I want you to take this letter to—Mr. Cassilis,—will you?"
The Sergeant hesitated unwontedly, turning his hat about and about in his hand, finally he put it on, out of the way.
"Will you, Sergeant?"
"Since you ask me—Miss Anthea mam—I will."
"Give it into his own hand."
"Miss Anthea mam—I will."