Come, I have got on my strong boots on purpose!--_at once_." "_At once ?_" he repeats, a little doubtfully turning over the letters that lie in a heap beside his plate.

"Well, I do not know about _that_--duty first, and pleasure afterward.

Had not I better go to Zephine Huntley's _first_, and get it over ?" "To _Zephine Huntley's_ ?" repeat I, my fingers suddenly breaking off in the middle of their tune, as I turn quickly round to face him; the smile disappearing from my face, and my jaw lengthening; "you do not mean to say that you are going there _again_ ?" "Yes, _again_!" he answers, laughing a little, and slightly mimicking my tragic tone; "why not, Nancy ?" I make no answer.

I turn away and look out; but I see a different landscape.

It looks to me as if I were regarding it through dark-blue glass.
"I have got a whole sheaf of letters and papers from her husband for her," pursues Roger, apparently calmly, and utterly unaware of my discomfiture, "and I do not want to keep her out of them longer than I can help." Still I make no rejoinder.