“Well, well,” said Regina, who did not believe in giving way in the presence of servants, “well, well, your master has had to go away on business, no doubt. His letter will explain everything.”
Her exterior was calm, but her heart was beating fast as she turned into the dining-room and took the letter off the chimney-shelf. She felt that the fatal moment had come, and that Alfred was gone. Alfred was gone, but not in the sense in which her doubting heart had feared.
“Dearest Queenie”—the letter ran—“I am dreadfully upset not to find you at home, as I ’phoned up to you directly I knew that I should have to go away on most important business. I am just off to Paris. Just imagine my going to Paris without you, dearest! It seems preposterous. If I get my business through in a day or two, perhaps you will join me there? If I don’t get my business through, I may have to go on elsewhere, and I could not drag you about, on what may be a wild-goose chase, half over Europe. I could have given you an outline of the story if you had been at home, but I haven’t time to write it. When I think of myself, a respectable British householder, tearing off on this mad errand, I feel inclined to pinch myself to make sure that I am awake. Till we meet.—Your fond and devoted
“Alfred.”
Regina sat down and gasped. What did it mean? Surely the hussy was not at the bottom of this. Just then Julia came in, having run across the road to speak to one of the Marksby girls whom she had seen standing at the gate as they came toward Ye Dene.
“What’s this Margaret says about daddy?” she asked.
“Nothing, my dear, nothing,” Regina rejoined, quite airily. “Your father has had to go away on business for a few days.”
“Oh, I thought, from Margaret’s demeanor, that daddy had gone away for good and all.”
“Julia!”
“Well, Margaret seemed to make such a mouthful of it.”