He was nervously anxious to know.
Adela sat in her boudoir, with a book open on her lap.

After the first glance on his entering she kept her eyes down.

He sauntered up and stood before her in an easy attitude.
'Who has been writing to you from London ?' he at once asked, abruptly in consequence of the effort to speak without constraint.
Adela was not prepared for such a question.

She remembered all at once that Alice had seen the letter as it lay on the table.

Why had Alice spoken to her brother about it?
There could be only one explanation of that, and of his coming thus directly.