"What did he say?" she asked.
"He put it into his pocket."
"He didn't read it?"
"Not then."
"And he didn't say anything? What did he look like?"
"He was like he always is; no one would call Jack demonstrative."
For all her studied indifference, Barbara shuddered involuntarily.
"I know. He frightens me when he's like that," she whispered. "If he ever flared up for a moment, I should feel that we were more evenly matched.... He will read the letter?" she persisted.
"My dear Babs, how can I tell?"
"Oh, of course you can't, but the waiting's so awful," she cried. "You know what was in it? I kept my promise—the promise I made on the Cross at Chepstow. If he wants me——"