I had a letter from Rose at Carlsbad, the other day; and--" The waiter came forward with a folded scrap of paper on his salver, which March knew must be from his wife.

"What is keeping you so ?" she wrote.

"I am all ready." "It's from Mrs.March," he explained to Kenby.
"I am going out with her on some errands.

I'm awfully glad to see you again.

We must talk it all over, and you must--you mustn't--Mrs.March will want to see you later--I--Are you in the hotel ?" "Oh yes.