"Mr. Randolph, you will be late," said the lady who owned that name, coming to his door. And, seeing her husband standing still, with his elbow leaning on his dressing-table, she walked in.
"You will assuredly be late! what have you got there?"
The little sheet of English note-paper lay spread out on the dressing-table. Mr. Randolph was looking at it. He did not answer, and the lady bent nearer for a moment and then stood upright.
"Daisy!" exclaimed Mrs. Randolph.
Her husband made an inarticulate sort of a noise, as he turned away and took up his neglected shaving soap.
"What is this?" said the lady, in astonishment.
"What you see " said Mr. Randolph.
"Where did it come from?"
"The signature tells you."
"But where did you get it?"