The faintest possible smile lighted his pale face.
“Kind,” he whispered.
And when she placed the glass of claret to his lips he sipped a little and turned away his head languidly.
“Enough. Bring me my dressing-case,” he whispered.
She did so.
“The key was in my purse, I think. Open it, Ally.”
She found the key and unlocked that inlaid box.
“Underneath there are two or three letters in a big envelope. Keep them for me; don’t part with them,” he whispered.
She lifted a long envelope containing some papers, and the faintest nod indicated that they were what he sought.
“Keep it safe. Put the case away.”