reached for the letter with a pitiful confusion of manner, not again
raising his uneasy eyes to hers.

"I was expecting--looking--for a message, you know--yes, yes--this is
it--thank you very much, you know!"

He stammered, his confusion deepened. With the letter clutched eagerly
in his hand he went out.

She looked after him, intently. When he had shut his own door she
glanced over at the inattentive Allan, once more busy at his manuscript
and apparently unconscious of her presence.

A long time she stood in silence, trying to moderate the beating of her
heart. Once she turned as if to go, but caught herself and turned again
to look at the bent head of Allan.

At last it seemed to her that she could trust herself to speak. Closing
the door softly, she went to the big chair at the end of the desk. As
she let herself go into this with a sudden joy in the strength of its
supporting arms, her husband looked up at her inquiringly.

She did not speak, but returned his gaze; returned it, with such
steadiness that presently he let his own eyes go down before hers with
palpable confusion, as if fearing some secret might lie there plain to
her view. His manner stimulated the suspicion under which she now seemed
to labour.

"Allan, I must know something at once very clearly. It will make a
mighty difference in your life and in mine."