them with eager
zest.

"Ah, here's one from Jerry Lister. I knew he would be sure to remember.
He's the dearest boy in the world. He would have been here, but for some
horrid examination that kept him at Oxford."

She opened the message impetuously, and began to read it; but suddenly,
finding her husband at her side, she desisted, crumpling it in her hand
with decidedly heightened colour.

"Oh, he's quite ridiculous. Let us open some of the others."

She thrust a sheaf into his hand, and busied herself with the remainder.

He did not attempt to open any of them, but stood silently watching her
glowing face as she opened one after another and tossed them down.

Suddenly she raised her eyes, and met his look fully, with a certain
pride.

"Is anything the matter?"

He pointed quite calmly to the scrap of paper she held crumpled in her
hand.

"Are you not going to read that?" he asked, in slow, rather careful
English.

Her colour deepened; it rose to her forehead in a burning wave.

"Presently," she returned briefly.

His eyes held hers with a curious insistence.

"You need not be afraid," he said very quietly; "I shall not try to look
over."

Nan stared at him, too amazed for speech. The hot blood ebbed from
her face as swiftly as it had risen, leaving her as white as the
orange-blossoms in her hair.

At length suddenly, with a passionate gesture, she thrust out her hand to
him with the ball of paper on her palm.

"Pray take it and read it," she said, her voice quivering with anger,
"since it interests you so much."

He made no movement to comply.

"I do not wish to read it, Anne," he said gravely.

Her lip curled. It was the first time he had ever called her by her
Christian name, and there was something exceedingly formal in the way he
uttered it now. Moreover, no one ever called her anything but Nan. For
some reason she was hotly indignant at this unfamiliar mode of address.
It increased her anger against him tenfold.

"Take it and read it!" she reiterated, with stubborn persistence. "I wish
you to do so!"

The first carriage-load of guests was approaching the house as she spoke.
Cradock paused for a single instant as if irresolute, then, without more
ado, he took her at her word. He smoothed the paper out without the
smallest change of countenance, and read it, while she stood quivering
with impotent fury by his side. It was a long telegram, and it took some
seconds to read; but he did not