Cashel went away from the table, out of Fanny ’ s reach; and read the letter, which ran thus:
“ Regent ’ s Park.
“ Dear Mr. Cashel Byron, — I am desirous that you should meet a lady friend of mine. She will be here at three o ’ clock to-morrow afternoon. You would oblige me greatly by calling on me at that hour.
“ Yours faithfully,
“ Lydia Carew. ”
There was a long pause, during which there was no sound in the room except the ticking of the clock and the munching of shrimps by the ex-champion.
“ Good news, I hope, Cashel, ” said Mrs. Skene, at last, tremulously.
“ Blow me if I understand it, ” said Cashel. “ Can you make it out? ” And he handed the letter to his adopted mother. Skene ceased eating to see his wife read, a feat which was to him one of the wonders of science.
“ I thin
