“When am Ito come to Lyndbridge?”
“The day after tomorrow—Thursday—take the 10.15 from Charing Cross. I shall be at Lyndbridge Station to meet you. A small village, but the mansion is not unpleasant.” He smiled at her brilliantly and opened the door.
“You are tired,” he remarked. “Next time you come here make Mrs. Rue send the carriage for you.”
“The servants would gossip.”
“They do that now. I need not be seen. It is natural that you should sometimes visit your property. Ask to be driven to the station tomorrow.”
He was in the passage and had the front door open. She passed out into the street, the dusk, and walked toward the river, the bridge, the Old Priory, with the slow step of fatigue. She remembered suddenly that she had left the letters with the painter and came to a standstil
