"The stage-door keeper just brought it round.

But you haven't time to read it now." A wave of faintness swept over me.

Supposing Ivor had had bad news, and thought it best to warn me without delay?
"I must read the letter," I insisted.

"Give it to me at once." Occasionally Marianne (who has been with me for many years, and is old enough to be my mother) argues a matter on which we disagree: but something in my voice, I suppose, made her obey me with extraordinary promptness.

Then came a shock--and not of relief.