"Oh! how splendid!" said Rachel. "I believe I have a chance after all."
Sir William gave a grunt of satisfaction. "That's more like it," he said. "If you had come up a little sooner we might have had a decent game."
Rendel made no comment. The game ended in the most auspicious way possible. Rachel, backed by Rendel's advice, showed fight a little longer and left the victory to Sir William in the end after a desperate struggle. The hour of departure came. Rachel and her husband both went downstairs with Sir William. They opened the door. It was a bright, starlight night. Sir William announced his intention of walking to a cab, and with his coat buttoned up against the east wind, started off along the pavement. Rachel turned back into the house with a sigh as she saw him go.
"He is getting to look much older, isn't he?" she said. "Poor dear, it is hard on him to have to turn out at this time of night."
Rendel vaguely heard and barely took in the meaning of what she was saying. His one idea was that now he would be able to tell her his news.
"Come in here," he said, drawing her into the study. "I want to tell you something." And he made her sit down in his own comfortable chair. "I have had a letter this evening," he said.
"Have you?" said Rachel, looking up at him in surprise at the unusual note of joyousness, almost of exultation, in his tone. "What is it about?"
"You shall read it," he said, giving it to her. Her colour rose as she read on.
"Oh, what an opportunity!" she said, and a tinge of regret crept strangely into her voice. "What a pity!"