"Then is this for me?" she asked, unfolding the cheque.
"Yes; Burton, the man who bought it, was satisfied to give that for it, which should be a great satisfaction to you."
"It is; but why did he think it was priced at seven hundred and fifty? I suppose he misread the card. I think I had better write and tell him I only asked seventy-five pounds."
If John Marlow was a humbug, Regina certainly was not. Everest watched her with interest. He knew so well what John would have said and done in a like case. He would have been so bland and glib, and pocketed the cheque so smoothly!
"You can't very well without giving away the shopman, who not unnaturally thought he was doing his best for you. It has made rather a difficult situation. You had better think over what you'd like to do while I'm dressing."
Regina took the cheque and walked back into the sitting-room. She sat down at once and wrote:
"Dear Sir,—Through a mistake of mine, you were asked for my picture more than I intended. I am therefore returning you your cheque for five hundred pounds and I shall be quite satisfied if you will send me another for one hundred pounds instead. Yours faithfully,
"Regina ——."
And here she paused. It was the first note she had written since she had been with Everest. What would he wish her to sign it? She left it open, and sat and waited till he came in.
Everest picked up the note and read it; then he saw the blank she had left, and took the pen from her and wrote in, himself: "Lanark," and she pressed her soft, warm lips on his hand as it laid down the pen.
"Can that do any harm to the dealer?" she asked. "It has all got into a muddle, and I hate even that note, because it's not absolutely straight facts, but perhaps it's the best I can do. What do you think?"