'Yes; it is from her.' 'Is she quite well ?' 'I suppose she is.

She does not speak of her health.' He looked pertinaciously in the direction of the letter, and it was not rightly mannered.

That letter, of all others, was covert and sacred to the friend.

It contained the weightiest of secrets.
'I have not written to her,' said Redworth.
He was astonishing: 'To whom?
To Diana?
You could very well have done so, only I fancy she knows nothing, has never given a thought to railway stocks and shares; she has a loathing for speculation.' 'And speculators too, I dare say!' 'It is extremely probable.' Lady Dunstane spoke with an emphasis, for the man liked Diana, and would be moved by the idea of forfeiting her esteem.
'She might blame me if I did anything dishonourable!' 'She certainly would.' 'She will have no cause.' Lady Dunstane began to look, as at a cloud charged with remote explosions: and still for the moment she was unsuspecting.

But it was a flitting moment.