She had not the happy faculty which some people have of putting their thoughts on paper, lucidly and clearly, and the letter had not been an easy one to write. She had honestly tried to be frank, but when it came to writing of her love, words seemed so bald, so inadequate, that after several efforts she had given it up in despair, and merely stated simple facts. And yet she would have liked Marion to know all. It would have added to her happiness to have known that her friend sympathised and shared in it.
She never for a moment considered the possibility of an answer in person, and she was, in consequence, taken entirely by surprise when, on the afternoon of the next day, Mrs. Heathcote walked into the hall where she was sitting.
Philippa sprang to her feet. "Oh," she cried, "I never thought you would be able to come. How delightful!"
Marion returned her kiss warmly. "I felt I must see you," she said affectionately, "and I was able to leave Dickie for a little while."
"How is he?"
"Getting gradually stronger."
"Is your husband here?"
"No, he stopped with the boy; we could not both come away. I can only stay a short time. Will you come into the morning-room and let us have a talk there, where we shall be undisturbed?"
"You got my letter?" asked Philippa.
"Yes, that is why I came," answered Marion gravely. "Will you tell me all about it, dear?"