While he spoke he was turning over the envelopes, one by one, in a desultory fashion.
“Yes. This is Lady Arabella’s writing.” He paused and looked across at Gillian.
“Will you read it, please?” she said. “And—oh, you ought to sit down! You don’t look very strong yet.”
He smiled a little.
“I’m not quite such a crock as I look. But won’t you sit down yourself while I read this letter? Is it of importance?”
“Oh! Please read it!” exclaimed Gillian with sudden nervous impatience.
It seemed to her an eternity while he read the letter. But at last he looked up from its perusal.
“Well?” she asked under her breath.
Very deliberately he refolded the sheet of notepaper and slipped it back into its envelope.
“It would have made no difference if I had received it earlier,” he said composedly.