As he did not turn over the leaf, she saw it could not be a long one, and must all be comprised within one page.
“Ry, darling,” she asked, also very pale, in a timid voice, “it’s nothing very bad. Oh, darling, what is it?”
He got up and walked to the window silently.
“What do you say, darling?” he asked, suddenly, after a little pause.
She repeated her question.
“No, darling, nothing, but—but possibly we may have to leave this. You can read it, darling.”
He laid the letter gently on the tablecloth beside her, and she picked it up, and read—
“My dear Charlie,
“The old soldier means business. I think you must go up to London, but be sure to meet me to-morrow at Hatherton, say the Commercial Hotel, at four o’clock, P.M.
“Your affectionate brother,
“Harry Fairfield.”