She had watched Malcolm narrowly and had come to the conclusion that he had something on his mind.

All his attempts at gaiety, his little jokes, his badinage, did not deceive her for a moment.

Trouble had come to him.

In some ways he was a changed man: he looked older, graver, and in repose his features had a care-worn expression, as of one who has worked hard in turmoil of soul.
And this trouble--could it be connected in any way with this mysterious Elizabeth, of whom he never spoke?
Ah, that was the question over which Anna pondered so heavily as her fair head bent over her typewriter.
Malcolm had ordered an early breakfast again in his own room, but as be sat down to it Hepsy brought him a note.

A slip of a lad had delivered it, she said, and was waiting for an answer.
Malcolm had never seen the handwriting before, but he at once guessed it was from Leah--and he was right.