She as good as told me so. I never was more
thankful. It would have been so terribly unsuitable. She told me she was
writing to you. What does she say?"
Sir Francis did not choose to see the hand held out for Deleah's little
note. He folded it, and walked to the window, looking out thoughtfully
upon the garden, his hands behind his back, the letter, held by its corner
in one of them, waggling up and down.
"She told me she had written," Miss Forcus said again, by way of reminder.
"She simply says she has gone."
"I shall miss her dreadfully. She is the dearest girl. Never have I seen
one so lovely and so little vain."
"She is too lovely to be vain," Sir Francis said.
And at the tone rather than the words Miss Forcus lifted a startled head,
and gazed and gazed upon her brother's stately back, upon the hands
clasped behind it, holding the letter, waggling up and down, he would not
let out of his keeping.
Over another letter which Sir Francis received the next morning, he
laughed as he read. He tossed it across the table to his sister. "What a
fellow!" he said.
"From Reggie? I wish you had not written to him to come home, Francis."
"He's not coming. Don't alarm yourself. He says the Worradykes have turned
up at Nice--"
"They followed him! They've no doubt taken Daisy.
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