She did not understand, of course, nor, just then, was she particularly curious. There were other matters on her mind, one matter so transcendently important that she could think of nothing else.
“I can wait as well as not,” she told him. “In fact, I was goin’ to sit up anyway. I’ve got somethin’ to tell you, Foster. Somethin’ wonderful. I had a letter come in to-night’s mail. You had one, too. I’ve got them both here.”
She had the letters in her hand. He looked at them, then at her face.
“From—from the other side?” he asked, quickly.
“Yes.”
“From—her?”
“Yes. One of them.”
“Humph! What makes you look so queer? Say, there’s nothing—nothing wrong, is there?”
She shook her head.
“No. No, Foster,” she said, “there is nothin’ wrong. Everything is all right. Thank God for it.”