A midday meal was in readiness for her; she pretended to eat, but in reality scarce touched the food.
"You must taste old Narramore's port wine," said her entertainer.

"The fellow actually sent a couple of dozen." She was not to be persuaded; her refusal puzzled and annoyed Hilliard, and there followed a long silence.

Indeed, it surprised him to find how little they could say to each other to-day.

An unknown restraint had come between them.
"Well," he exclaimed at length, "I wrote to Patty, and she answered." "May I see the letter ?" "Of course.

Here it is." Eve read it, and smiled with pleasure.
"Doesn't she write nicely! Poor girl!" "Why have you taken so to commiserating her all at once ?" Hilliard asked.