"Dear Marie Celeste,—I hope you are not disappointed because I did not turn up the other night. I really wish I had now, as the weather has broken, and we've been having downpours of rain every day, so the handicap has been postponed. If it was not that there are several good bridge players in the hotel I don't know how the deuce we should pass the time. Have you seen Feathers? He said he should look you up, but I don't expect he has, the old blighter! Let me know how you are. I am sending you a cairngorm brooch with diamonds, and hope you will like it.—Yours affectionately, Chris."
Marie waited till the arrival of the brooch before she wrote:
"Dear Chris,—Thank you for your letter and the brooch, which is very uncommon. I am sorry the weather is so bad for you; it's quite good here. Yes, Mr. Dakers came to see us. I think he looks very well. Don't hurry home on my account. I am quite all right.—Yours affectionately, Marie Celeste."
What a letter, she thought, as she read it through—the sort of letter one might write to an acquaintance, certainly not to a man one loved best in the world!
She showed the brooch to Feathers.
"Yes, it's rather pretty," he agreed. "Everybody seems to wear that 155 stone in Scotland. Does Chris say when he is coming home?"
"No—he says the weather is bad."
"He'll soon be home then."
A flicker of eagerness crossed her eyes,
"Oh, do you think so?"