" But "beastly" still showed, pathetically, beneath
the line. And, by-and-by, the heart of Ronnie's wife, from which all
clouds had suddenly rolled away, understood it, and wept over it, and
kissed it; and thought "beastly" a dear word! It was so quaintly like
Ronnie to substitute "large" for "beastly."
All clouds had rolled away, before Helen read the note; for this is what
had happened.
* * * * *
Ronnie had excused himself when lunch was half over.
Helen let him go, trying to act on Dr. Dick's advice not to worry him by
seeming to watch or follow him.
So she sat on alone, finishing luncheon, and thus did not see Ronnie
walk out of the front door, carrying his bag.
Soon afterwards she passed into the hall, and sat dipping into the
papers and thinking over her talk with Dick.
Presently a page stepped up to her with a letter on a salver.
Her heart stood still as she saw the stamp, the post-mark, and the
writing. It was from Aubrey Treherne, forwarded from Hollymead.
Helen was sorely tempted for a moment to burn it unread. She had
suffered so much through a former letter in that handwriting. She
suddenly realised how cruelly Aubrey's words about Ronnie had, in the
light of Ronnie's subsequent behaviour, eaten into her soul.
She looked at the fire. She rose and moved towards it, the letter in her
hand.
Then better counsels prevailed.
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