’ ‘He let them go?’ asked Miss Froxfield incredulously. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. As though it was indelicate—it’s just a sort of shyness. He was a fool. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. To-night there seemed to be a new brilliancy in her eyes, a deeper quality in her tone. Take it, I tell you. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw.
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