I gazed at the note in extreme satisfaction. At least, I had the woman's address. Yes, after I had again seen Phrida I would see her and force from her lips the truth.
I rose quickly, placed the other letters in my pocket without opening them, and drove down to the City, where I was compelled to keep a business appointment.
At half-past three Egisto admitted me to Mrs. Shand's, and in reply to my question, told me that the "Signorina," as he always called Phrida, was in the morning-room.
Dressed in a pale grey gown, relieved with lace at the collar and wrists, she rose slowly from a big armchair as I entered, and came across to me, her face pale, drawn, and anxious.
"Ah! dearest," I cried. "I'm glad to see you better. Are you quite yourself again now?"
"Quite, thanks," was her low, rather weak reply. "I—I felt very unwell this morning. I—I don't know what was the matter." Then clinging to me suddenly, she added, "Ah! forgive me, Teddy, won't you?"
"There is nothing to forgive, dear," was my reply, as, placing my arm tenderly about her slim waist, I looked into the depths of those wonderful dark eyes of hers, trying to fathom what secret lay hidden there.
"Ah!" she ejaculated. "I know, dear, that though you affect to have forgiven me—that you have not. How could you possibly forgive?"
"I am not angry with you in the least, Phrida!" I assured her quite calmly. "Because you have not yet told me the truth. I am here to learn it."
"Yes," she gasped, sinking into a chair and staring straight into the fire. The short winter's day was dying, and already the light had nearly faded. But the fire threw a mellow glow upon her pale, hard-set features, and she presented a strangely dramatic picture as she sat there with head bent in shame. "Ah! yes. You are here again to torture me, I suppose," she sighed bitterly.