Jimmy had seen none of his own people since his visit to the Walter Griersons'. His work gave him a good and sufficient excuse for not leaving town, and it never occurred to him to call on either Henry or Walter in the City. Still, he wrote frequently; and, as time went on, he began to lose some of his fear of their discovering the existence of Lalage. Neither Ida nor May seemed to have any suspicions, so far as he could judge from their letters. Consequently, it gave him a terrible shock when, one morning, about the beginning of his fourth month on the Record, he received a wire from May commanding him to meet her as soon as possible at Walter's office.
Lalage, who had gone deadly pale, picked up the detestable brown envelope.
"It's addressed here. So they know," she whispered.
"Yes, they know," he repeated dully.
They sat for a long time in silence, then he got up, evidently intending to go out.
Lalage stood up, too. "Jimmy, you will leave me," she said.
He turned round quickly and took her in his arms. "Never, never, sweetheart. After all you've done for me! You ought to know me better."
For answer, she gave him a long, passionate kiss, as though saying farewell.