"I can't do that," said Jack. "I'm awfully sorry, but—"
"You can't give me his address?"
"No, I'm afraid I mustn't. You see, Frank's very particular in his letter...."
"Then how can I write to him? Mr. Kirkby, you're really rather—"
"By George! I've got it!" cried Jack. "If you don't mind my waiting at the Rectory. Why shouldn't you write to him now, and let me take the letter away and post it? It'll go all the quicker, too, from Barham."
He glanced at her, wondering whether she were displeased. Her answer reassured him.
"That'll do perfectly," she said, "if you're sure you don't mind waiting."
The Rectory garden seemed more than ever a harbor from storm as they turned into it. The sun was a little lower now, and the whole lawn lay in shadow. As they came to the door she stopped.
"I think I'd better go and get it over," she said. "I can tell father all about it after you've gone. Will you go now and wait there?" She nodded towards the seat where they had sat together earlier.