He held out the note received at the Green Dragon, but she ignored it.
“I take it for granted that you have the best of reasons for wishing to go,” she murmured.
“Please oblige me by reading it,” he persisted.
Perhaps, despite all his self-restraint, some hint of the wild longing in his heart to tell her once and for all that no power under that of the Almighty should tear him from her side moved her to relent. She took the letter, and began to read.
“Why,” she cried, “this was written at Hereford?”
“Yes. My father waited there all night. He left for town only a few minutes before I entered the hotel this morning.”
She read with puzzled brows, smiled a little at “Your aunt is making a devil of a fuss,” and passed quite unheeded the solitary “F.” in the signature.
“I think you ought to go to-day,” she commented.
“Not because of any argument advanced there,” he growled passionately.
“But your aunt ... she is making a—a fuss. One has to conciliate aunts at times.”