“Arthur! Janet forgotten us! Never, I am quite sure of that. But at the time it seemed impossible to go, to make the effort, I mean. I quite shrunk from the thought of Merleville. Indeed, if you had not been firm, I fear I should not have had the sea-breezes.”
“Yes. You owe me thanks. You needed the change. What with Will’s illness, and Harry’s going away, and one thing and another; you were quite in need of a change.”
“I was not well, certainly,” said Graeme. “Will has gone to the post, I suppose?”
“Yes,” said Rose, who entered at the moment. “I see him coming up the street.”
“As for Rosie,” said Arthur, looking at her gravely, as she sat down. “She has utterly ruined her complexion. Such freckles! such sunburning! and how stout she has grown!”
Rose laughed.
“Yes, I know I’m a fright. You must bring me something, Arthur. Toilette vinegar, or something.”
“Oh! it would not signify. You are quite beyond all that.”
“Here comes Will, with a letter for each of us, I declare.”
Arthur’s letter was soon despatched, a mere business missive. Graeme’s was laid down beside her, while she poured Will’s coffee. Rose read hers at once, and before she was well down the first page, she uttered a cry of delight.