“Really! That’s curious. Waiting, you say? You didn’t ask him in? What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Miss Gifford, I presume. I have called to ask if you will be kind enough to address a small parcel for Miss Rhodes.’ I said, ‘Wouldn’t it be better if I gave you her address?’ He said, ‘I should prefer if you wrote it yourself.’ I said, ‘I will do so with pleasure. Good morning.’ He said, ‘Good morning.’ He then took up his hat and departed. He showed himself out, and shut the door after him. I went upstairs and took off my things.”
“He didn’t stay long then?”
“About three minutes, I should say, perhaps four; I can’t tell you to a second, unfortunately. I didn’t look at the clock.”
Cecil laughed, half apologetic, half relieved.
“Oh, well, you needn’t be sarcastic. Naturally I wanted to know. I couldn’t make it out when I saw your writing, for you had given me the scarf—I’m going to buy your present at the sales, by the way—but, of course, when I took off the paper, there was a message inside. I was expecting that present.”
“I hope it was very nice?”
“Oh, yes—yes! A brooch,” Cecil said carelessly. Claire hoped it was not the insignificant little golden bar which she was wearing at the moment, but she had never seen it before, and Cecil’s jewellery was of the most limited description. She determined to ask no more questions on the subject, since evidently none were desired. Cecil helped herself to a second scone, and asked suddenly—
“Why didn’t he sit down?”
“It wasn’t necessary, was it? He gave his message, and then there was nothing to say. I wasn’t going to make conversation.”