Florence did look. Her frightened eyes were fixed upon the scrap of paper.
"Where—where did you get that?" she said.
"It is remarkable," he said; "I thought perhaps you would explain. I have read your paper—I am not going to say whether I like it or not. Do you remember that day when I saw you and gave you a packet at Hamslade Station?"
"Quite well."
"I think you would not be likely to forget. I was naturally puzzled to find you so near Mrs. Aylmer's house and yet not there. The packet I gave you was from Miss Keys, was it not?"
"There can be no harm in admitting that fact," replied Florence, in a guarded voice.
He looked at her and shook himself impatiently.
"I was perplexed and amazed at seeing you at the station."
"You ought to try and curb your curiosity, Mr. Trevor," said Florence. She tried to speak lightly and in a bantering tone. He was too much in earnest to take any notice of her tone.
"I was curious; I had reason to be," he replied. "I went home. Miss Keys, Miss Sharston and others were in the hall. They were talking about you, and Miss Sharston showed me one of your stories. I read it; we both read it, and with keen curiosity."