They shook hands without a word, their eyes meeting for an instant only.

Hilliard led the way upstairs; and Patty, still keeping an embarrassed silence, sat down on the easy-chair.

Her complexion was as noticeably fresh as Hilliard's was wan and fatigued.

Where Patty's skin showed a dimple, his bore a gash, the result of an accident in shaving this morning.
With hands behind he stood in front of the girl.
"She chose not to come, then ?" "Yes.

She asked me to come and see you alone." "No pretence of headache this time." "I don't think it was a pretence," faltered Patty, who looked very ill at ease, for all the bloom on her cheeks and the clear, childish light in her eyes.
"Well, then, why hasn't she come to-day ?" "She has sent a letter for you, Mr.Hilliard." Patty handed the missive, and Hilliard laid it upon the table.
"Am I to read it now ?" "I think it's a long letter." "Feels like it.