"I'll wait another five minutes," she said. She waited ten; and then
another ten. "David," she said, in a smothered voice, "go; tell Maggie
he isn't coming--to dinner. You have your dinner, dear little boy.
I--don't want any."
She went up-stairs to her own room, and shut and locked the door. All
was over....
Yet when, in the early afternoon, the mail arrived, she had a pang of
hope that was absolute agony, for he had written.
There were only a dozen lines besides the "Dearest Nelly": "I am just starting out West, rather unexpectedly, on business. I am
taking Alice along, and she is greatly delighted at the idea of a
journey--her first. I don't know just when I'll get back; not for six
weeks anyhow. Probably eight. Hope you and your youngster are all
right.
"Yours, L. P.
"Your despatch received. We must talk things over the next time I come
to Old Chester."
She passed her hand over her eyes in a bewildered way; for a moment
the words had absolutely no sense. Then she read them again: "We must
talk things Over--"
What things? Why, their marriage, of course! Their marriage? She burst
out laughing; and David, looking at her, shrank away.