I suppose you have been told of last night’s terrible tragedy. Cynthia is prostrated. She begs pitifully to see you. Can you come to us for a few days? Your presence will help us both.
Affectionately,
Charlotte Winthrop.
Eleanor read the note several times, then walked thoughtfully over to her desk.
Dearest Mrs. Winthrop: [she wrote] It is awful. I will come as soon as possible.
Devotedly,
Eleanor.
“Give this to Fugi, Annette, then come back and pack my small steamer trunk,” as the maid hastened out of the room; she picked up a silk waist preparatory to putting it on, but her toilette was doomed to another interruption.
“Well, my dear, may I come in?” asked a pleasant voice from the doorway.