"He's in trouble, as usual, poor boy!" remarked Jenny, genially. "He's very well, thank you, and sends you his love."
Lord Talgarth cast her a pregnant glance.
"Well, if he didn't, I'm sure he meant to," went on Jenny; "but I expect he forgot. You see, he's been in prison."
The old man jerked such a face at her, that even her nerve failed for an instant. Jack saw her put her cigarette up to her mouth with a hand that shook ever so slightly. And yet before the other could say one word she recovered herself.
"Please let me say it right out to the end first," she said. "No; please don't interrupt! Mr. Jack, give me the letter ... oh! I've got it." (She drew it out and began to unfold it, talking all the while with astonishing smoothness and self-command.) "And I'll read you all the important part. It's written to Mr. Kirkby. He got it this morning and very kindly brought it straight over here at once."
Jack was watching like a terrier. On the one side he saw emotions so furious and so conflicting that they could find no expression, and on the other a restraint and a personality so complete and so compelling that they simply held the field and permitted no outburst. Her voice was cool and high and natural. Then he noticed her flick a glance at himself, sideways, and yet perfectly intelligible. He stood up.
"Yes, do just take a stroll, Mr. Kirkby.... Come back in ten minutes."
And as he passed out again through the thick archway on to the terrace he heard, in an incredibly matter-of-fact voice, the letter begin.
"Dear Jack...."
Then he began to wonder what, as a matter of interest, Lord Talgarth's first utterance would be. But he felt he could trust Jenny to manage him. She was an astonishingly sane and sensible girl.