I--I think he meant it for you." Polly's tone suddenly became saucy, but her voice shook.
Dorothea was shaking too, as her fingers closed on the note.

She vainly sought to read the girl's eyes.

Her own cheeks were burning; she felt the blood rushing into them and singing in her ears.

Yet in her abasement she kept her dignity, and, motioning Polly to follow, stepped into the bedroom, unfolded the letter slowly, and read it by the candle there.
_"My Angel, "I have hungered now for a week.

Be at your window this evening and let me, at least, be fed with a word.