“Oh, no,” said the other; “I will tell you everything she said to me, if you like. Only I will not tell you where she is.”
“I will not ask you,” said Lavender at once, “if she does not wish me to know. But you can tell me about herself? What was she looking like? Is Mairi with her?”
“Yes, Mairi is with her. And, of course, she is looking a little troubled and pale, and so forth, but she is very well, I should think, and quite comfortably situated. She said I was to tell you that she was well, and that you need not be anxious.”
“She sent a message to me?”
“That is it.”
“By Jove, Ingram! how can I ever thank you enough? I feel as glad just now as if she had really come home again. And how did you manage it?”
Lavender, in his excitement and gratitude, kept filling up his friend’s glass the moment the least quantity had been taken out of it; the wonder was he did not fill all the glasses on that side of the table, and beseech Ingram to have two or three dinners all at once.
“Oh, you needn’t give me any credit about it,” Ingram said. “I stumbled against her by accident: at least, I did not find her out myself.”
“Did she send for you?”
“No. But look here, Lavender, this sort of cross-examination will lead to but one thing; and you say yourself you won’t try to find out where she is.”