Olive Castlemaine and her father were both standing near the fireplace as the young men entered. The man's face was cold, and stern, and relentless. As for Olive, she gave evidence of a sleepless night. Her eyes were dry and hard, but her face, though pale, suggested no signs of weakness. She looked almost composed, except that her lips were compressed.
Leicester took a step towards her, but only a step. The look in her eyes forbade him. Still he remained calm.
"I am naturally come for—for an explanation," he said.
"I thought that my letter would have relieved me of that necessity," said John Castlemaine.
"I have received no letter."
"I sent one by hand this morning."
"I have not seen it."
Leicester knew by the look on Olive's face that something terrible had happened, and the look nerved him to expect anything.
"In my letter," said John Castlemaine, "I explained why no wedding could take place to-day, why from henceforth my doors must be closed to you."
"You did not say this last night."