Arnold Jacks was altogether too decorous. Would it not
have been natural for a man in his position to utter at least an
indignant word? It might have been as allusive as his fine propriety
demanded, but surely the word should have been spoken!
After some delay, she replied in a telegram, merely saying that she
was quite well.
Olga, as soon as she felt able, had sat down to write a letter. She
begged her cousin to have it posted at once.
"It's to Mr. Otway," she said, in an unsteady voice. And, when the
letter had been despatched, she added, "It will be a great blow to
him. I had a letter last night asking for news--Oh, I meant to
bring it!" she exclaimed, with a momentary return of her distracted
manner. "I left it in my room. It will be lost-destroyed!"
Irene quieted her, promising that the letter should be kept safe.
"Perhaps he will call," Olga said presently. "But no, not so soon.
He may have written again. I must have the letter if there is one.
Someone must go over to the house this evening."
Through a great part of the afternoon, she slept, and whilst she was
sleeping there arrived for her a telegram, which, Irene did not
doubt, came from Piers Otway. It proved to be so, and Olga betrayed
nervous tremors after reading the message.
"I shall have a letter in the morning," she said to her cousin,
several times; and after that she did not care to talk, but sat for
hours busy with her thoughts, which seemed not altogether sad.
Pages:
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339